How to Realize a Story Over Time (Jen Intro) (10/17/2020)

How to Realize a Story Over Time | The Weekly Atticus

A recap of the week's writing at Atticus Review. Introduction by Jen Maidenberg.

If you’re reading this in America, presumably you’ve been bombarded over the last couple of weeks with all things pumpkin spice, fall foliage, Halloween. That’s October in America.

When I was an expat living in Israel, it was October I longed for more than anything else back in the U.S. When I moved back to New Jersey, it was October that comforted me, reassuring me my decision was a good one.

In Israel, while a student in a graduate program in creative writing, I wrote a piece that, at its essence, is about longing. On the surface, that longing was for place and a season: Woodstock, NY in October. But not too much farther beneath the surface, that story is clearly about yearning for a lost love, for youth, the usual.

For a long time, I associated October with a particular kind of music, too; certain songs naturally found their way into that story about Woodstock. It’s October again, though, and I realized only yesterday that I don’t feel moony, don’t feel the need to listen to Randy Newman or Nick Drake on repeat. 

But I did think of the story, which I never fully committed to tightening for submission. I dug it out of Google Docs to read, surprised not by how much I liked it still, but by how easy it was for me to edit. I knew exactly how to tweak the dialogue, which adjectives to pull, which scenes to shorten. Honestly, I was more excited about how perfect the timing felt for editing this piece than I was about the possibility of it being good enough to submit somewhere.

Here’s an important reveal: the story is fiction, but extremely autobiographical. I wrote it during a time I was too afraid to tell it as nonfiction, so I fictionalized it. However, half a year later I felt brave and skilled enough to tell that story as long-form CNF, and did. From that point on, the original short story felt counterfeit, forced even. I didn’t feel any attachment to publishing it, and probably at times even felt embarrassed by it the way writers do sometimes encountering writing from before they were better skilled. 

It’s been

seven

years since I started writing that story. Seven: a number that has significance in almost every major religion, but for me mostly inspires thoughts of beginnings and endings of cycles...of transformation...of growth. 

It took seven years for that story to finally read like fiction, and it would take a much longer letter for me to explain how and why, but I bet I could. I bet I could track it, outline it, turn it into a methodology. But today it feels right simply to acknowledge it, know that it’s possible, and share with you a success story of what it looks like to be on the other side of longing; healed, grown, held by oneself; in large part, as a result of writing.

Perhaps you are the type to realize a story over time, to pace yourself, to have patience for the long haul of creation, but not me. Almost every story I’ve ever written has come to me quickly, demanded my urgent attention, and remained an obsession until it was finished or abandoned.  

Yet, here I am, in October, not moony, and with a new piece of seven-year-old fiction ready to submit. It makes me feel healthy, hopeful, and good. 

Much love to you during these strange and challenging times, dear writers and readers.

Thanks for reading. We're glad you're here.

Jen Maidenberg

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THIS WEEK AT ATTICUS REVIEW

FICTIONONCEby Yasmina Madden"...I am sitting here signing the papers that will finally dissolve us, papers that will end a year of rage and tantrums, like the time I plunged a knife into the hideous recliner chair..."READ ON

POETRYMOTHER AS VAN DER WAALS FORCESby Rachel Mann Smith"I knit my houseof muscle,fed on little nothingswho never camebefore me,I was the first..."READ ON

CREATIVE NONFICTIONLAST MEDLEYby Jacqueline Doyle"Age came so quickly. Death will come much sooner than I ever expected it to. For a while I’ve felt like I’m rushing to the end at breakneck speed when I thought the middle would last much longer."READ ON

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