Not Giving Up...

So if there are any of you that are watching Drag Race Canada and aren't caught up on this season you should back out now so you don't get any spoilers. Not sure if there are any of you out there, but you know how I feel about spoilers so I want to make sure. 

Okay, good?

Good.

So like three episodes ago Kimora Amour told all the other Queens that she was ready to go home. That she had done everything should could and there was just no more to give. 

The other Queens were really upset with her. They kept telling her not to give up. And she was trying to make it clear to them that she wasn't giving up, she was just done. There was a difference. And I really understood what she was trying to say. Maybe it's due to age, the other Queens are all younger and still doing that "Meet My Potential" drive. Kimora is a little older. She is happy with her life and where she is. That striving part of her time is done. 

I'm older than she is and I really feel that. Which I know sounds odd in a way since I'm always coming up with little games and challenges and goals to keep reaching for things but...

I know who I am. I know what my limits are in certain areas. I know where I want to be. And sometimes I realize that what I was reaching for doesn't actually serve me. So I stop. It's not giving up. Or giving in. Or settling. It's knowing who you are. Knowing what is important to you. Knowing what is worth your time. And continually butting up against a wall you are not going to break down doesn't serve you.

And honestly at some point you realize that if breaking down that wall had really been all that important to you, you'd have done it when you were younger and still full of striving energy. 

I reached that this year with my writing. You know back in like September I decided I wasn't going to submit anything this year. I didn't submit last year, 2020 was not a year that needed more rejection. And 2021 was just shaping up to be a year that wasn't lending itself to a lot of quality fiction and maybe fiction all together was off my radar. 

And as soon as I let that go I had a little flourish of inspiration and I wrote a few pieces and then a new contest that seemed pretty tailormade for my fun zone dropped into my lap. (Things that sound dirty, but aren't) So I went ahead and entered. Which put me down one for contest submissions and one for other submissions. And the contest that I entered had multiple heats. The second part starts this weekend. Same sort of format, they give you a genre, an action and a word that must be used in the story and you have 24 hours to craft a micro fiction (250 words) story. So I was counting that second round as my second contest submission. 

Except I didn't make it out of round one. 

Got the news last night. There were 48 people in my group, the Top Ten advanced. I wasn't one of the top ten. There were five honorable mentions as well. I wasn't one of those. Forty eight stories, fifteen got kudos, thirty percent of the stories submitted were good enough. I was not in that 30%. It stung last night. A lot. 

I mean, I can absolutely justify it to myself on one hand. Even when I submitted I said I didn't like it. I thought it wasn't my best work at all. But, honestly? I thought even not being my best work I'd at least make it out of round one. The genre was not one I ever write. The prompts made it really difficult. But at least everyone was in the same boat right? Except clearly some of us were in a different storm...

So last night I looked over the titles and wished I could see the stories. Wondering what those stories were like. The ones that made it out. And then I had a realization. I didn't really actually care. I mean I would look and I would either agree or disagree but it wouldn't change what I did. What I was able to do. What I want to do. I've reached the max for myself with writing. I'm not giving up. I'm just done running into the wall over and over. 

I do not have the energy or the self confidence (delusion?) to self publish. I don't want to spend the time necessary to push my work out there through all the socials and book stores and everything you have to do to try and sell books when you don't have a publishing house behind you. I'm not going to pay a vanity press to put out my stories when I have my own vanity publishing platform right here. I'm tired of submitting to contests and anthologies only to keep being told my stuff isn't good enough. I have my own inner critic for that.

I have a little bit of talent. I'm not going to say that I don't. I enjoy getting feedback from the 4 people who read my stuff and enjoy it. I'm super excited that I have four when I used to have three. That's like a 30% increase in audience size and that's pretty damn good. But I also know that as soon as I said I wasn't worried about it I had a rush of ideas and when I went back to focusing on what I "needed" to submit they were gone. I've had enough. 

I totally get Kimora. I know who I am. I know what I do well. I have no desire to keep trying to push out of a space where I'm actually happy and proud of what I do. 

So here you go, enjoy the last (as far as I can tell, you know me, I might completely change my mind some point in the future) submission from me. It's not really a Denise type story. It's not really something I was super pleased with. But dammit...I still think it was pretty good. 

The rules were 24 hours to write the story
Micro-fiction 250 words not including the title
Prompts were:
Genre: Action and/or Adventure
Action: Winning a bet
Word: Scrap

The Chase

 Passenger mirror. Windshield. Rearview mirror. Windshield. Driver side mirror. Windshield. She repeated the words to herself as her eyes scanned the road ahead and the road behind. Something she had learned from her father. Keep one part of your brain busy and another will notice things you wouldn’t have otherwise.

And there it was. How long had it been there? She made a mental checklist. Red Subaru. Two cars back. She changed lanes. The Subaru changed lanes as well.

Traffic was picking up now. She needed to get further ahead, trap the Subaru behind her. Passenger mirror. Windshield. Rearview mirror. She slowed and changed lanes again. Tucking in quickly.

Driver side mirror. Windshield. Passenger side. Subaru.

One more lane change, then a burst of speed. Rearview mirror. The Subaru was now 5 cars behind, but she could see the driver scanning the road, trying to find a gap to catch her.  Driver side mirror. Windshield. Rearview mirror. Windshield. Passenger side mirror.

She turned right and tucked into a long line of cars. She was stuck now, and so was the Subaru. Traffic stopped. Engines turned off. Rearview mirror. The door to the Subaru was open and the driver was walking toward her car. She reached into the glove box and fumbled around until she found what she needed.

As the Subaru driver slowly walked toward her window, she made a mark on the scrap of paper. The tally was 14-5.

“You win again.”

“Double or nothing for tomorrow’s school pickup?”