Shot Caller
This was posted on the Writers of the Future forum and addressed the competitors for the current contest-submission period.
Hello All!
What? No trumpets heralding my arrival? Ah, well, don’t fret; I don’t feel slighted. I’m sure to survive this slight oversight. I come bearing news. Actually, it’s more of a declaration. Pre-news, if you will.
If you gathered that this post will be about me, you were generally correct; if you gathered that this post will only be about me, you were less so.
In baseball, have you ever seen a batter step up to the plate and then point his bat over the far fence? A bold move, to be sure. If you strip away the ego, what’s happening?
The batter is saying: That’s where I’m sending this next one.
The pitcher responds: Not if I have anything to say about it.
We’ll circle back to this.
“Your Lie in April” is an anime with a beautiful story. Over the past few years, I’ve watched this series multiple times, and each time, I've found something new to admire. The story follows Kōsei, a young piano prodigy, who quit playing the piano.
My more recent admiration surrounded a subplot that involved his competitors. When Kōsei played (around 5 y/o), he always finished first, leaving two other pianists to alternate in 2nd and 3rd place. Kōsei was the guy both wanted to beat. But when he quit, they both felt dejected. Sure, each started winning 1st, but the victory was hollow. Their rival had vanished, depriving them of the chance to beat him.
When Kōsei returned, both competitors were thrilled. At long last, they finally had the chance they had longed for. So they began practicing more fiercely than ever. For the first time in a long time, they both felt alive again. But then, Kōsei turned in a bad performance, and again, they are devastated. It wasn’t enough to win while he was playing; they needed to beat him at his best. Obviously, they were furious.
This plotline shows how much Kōsei means to his competitors. Without him, they may not have attained their respective heights had they not had someone like Kōsei to rise above. They came to realize how large a role he played in making them the musicians they grew into. Basically, he became their hero.
If you haven’t seen this series, you are doing yourself an incredible disservice. I have a profound appreciation for competition. And since I've been here, I've felt this competitive spirit to be somewhat absent. That’s not to suggest that participants don’t want to win; I just don’t sense the competitive drive that I believe to be vital within the competitive arena.
We’ll return to this too.
I’ve garnered some great experiences over the past year. I would like to share some of those insights. I first signed up for this contest after attending my first con. Jody Lynn Nye attended as the guest of honor. Since then, I’ve turned in 6 submissions. Of those, this past year was a more earnest effort; I submitted every quarter for V42.
Since I began, I’ve poked my head into the forum a time or two. This really is a welcoming and supportive community. I’ve seen a lot of positive comments and mutual support. Comparatively speaking, I can’t say that I’ve engaged or contributed all that much. But that’s not any sort of dejection; I just realize that my motivations are different. And you know, I’m sure that my differing motivations are something that I have in common with other participants.
My lie in December. After Q4V42’s judging was complete, I discovered that my submission file was corrupted and didn’t actually upload properly. I told someone within the contest that I would submit a different story the following quarter. Then, the Q1V43 submission window came and went, and my statement turned out to be a lie, albeit an unintentional one.
December 31st arrived, and I was on track to do exactly as I had said. After spending the preceding few days on some rewrites/restructuring, I had finished a workable version. I still had a couple of hours remaining, which was enough time to pass back through and apply a bit of polish. After all, I’ve frequently heard, “Just send us what you have,” so if I needed any validation, it had already been given several times over.
Instead, I closed my laptop, deciding to submit it in the following quarter. This quarter. Why? Well, I had some very deliberate things that I wanted to do with the story. I wouldn’t have been content doing less. And that’s not perfectionism; it’s craft. Plus, I saw a great teaching moment in it, and so that’s what I mean to share. Here. Now.
For context and credibility, let’s reference my contest performance. Of my 6 submissions, each was something completely different. Each presented a new puzzle, a new lesson. And each built upon the lessons that came before. At first glance, my scorecard doesn’t seem impressive:
- Honorable Mention: x 1
- Rejection with Comments: x 2
- Rejection: x 2
- Error: x1
If I were another competitor looking at this scorecard, I know I wouldn’t feel intimidated. But while writing is a part of the arts, it’s still a craft. If we want to succeed, our efforts need to be deliberate. “Rinse and repeat” won’t get anyone far, if anywhere at all.
Regarding “Just send us what you have” and “submit every quarter,” I’ve seen a bad practice here on the forum, and I hope to help others get onto a more productive track. Some time ago, another participant announced the submission of a story. It was previously a “flat” rejection. The writer found and fixed a single flaw in their work, assumed it caused their rejection, and then resubmitted the same story.
I looked up the guidelines. Their flaw wasn’t listed as a reason for “flat” rejections. I brought this to their attention, and their response was basically, “This is what I have,” so I’m following ‘Just send us what you have.’ It was an action that didn’t actually do anything for anyone, least of all the writer.
I’ve seen others say similar things about resubmitting stories. Recently, another participant, someone with a scorecard far better than my own, mentioned a fondness for a past submission and was torn about resubmitting or moving on. I recommended a new story. Another writer suggested the opposite, claiming that the participant’s scorecard qualified sound judgment.
Now, this contradiction irked me, but not for any reason that might seem apparent. Storytelling is a craft with many paths. I get that, and I don’t begrudge another their own, nor their opinion. In fact, I don’t valuate my opinion very highly; I said as much alongside my original suggestion.
My problem lay in the participant’s skill progression. Writing a new story has a greater growth potential than revising one that already exists. Rewriting has similarly high potential, so long as the writer attempts to write the story in a new way while using different narrative devices. So, a revised resubmission lowers a writer’s growth curve, which weakens the growth of my competition. And it’s this weakening of my competition that I’m not fond of.
Participants shouldn’t remain fixed points; I don’t want to win by simply lapping everyone else’s place of rest. This “submit every quarter” would grant much more benefit if writers took it to mean “submit a new story every quarter.”
Let’s set performance aside for a moment and touch on motivation. Across the forum, I’ve seen an abundance of encouragement. And I think that’s great. But none of us can run on that alone. On the WotF podcast, I know John likes to reference Jonnie Goodboy Tyler, so let’s look at something specific within Battlefield Earth.
If you’re familiar with this story, how often are Jonnie’s efforts actually encouraged? While Chrissie and Pattie support him as a person, everyone opposes his plot efforts, and many of those antagonisms only mount as the story proceeds. When he initially sets out, one of his only supporters, Chrissie, gives him a deadline—return or else! So, no one believed he could do what he intended. Despite that, he went anyway. And if you believe this kind of thing only exists within story, you’re as wrong as somoene believing that this post is about me.
“Whether you think you can or think you can’t, you’re right.” Henry Ford
This is the main reason I’ve never really gotten involved here. While I always appreciate kind words, they never get me far. More than anything, I’m driven by someone telling me, “I can’t” or “I won’t.” And I know that’s not something unique to me. I’m sure there are a lot of others here with this same drive.
So, why am I here? Well, that’s simple. This competition has been around for over forty years. There is a lot of competition. A lot of great writers and storytellers, some of whom are better at my own language when it’s their 2nd or 3rd. But it’s the competition that I’m here for. You’re all the best around, which means you’re the ones to beat. And the better you are, the better I have to be in order to succeed.
Soon, I mean to submit my most recent story. I’ll do so this quarter, Q2V43.
That being said…
I just stepped up to home plate. I knocked the dirt off my cleats. Wound my shoulders. And then pointed my bat above the far fence. And all while all of you stand there on the pitcher’s mound.
I imagine such a statement is unusual for this setting, not without seeming pompous or delusional, of course. And I realize that the judges still get their say. After all:
“Nothing is for sure; it’s the only sure thing I know.” A Beautiful Mind
You all get a say as well. But you'd better bring your best. I don’t want to win by simply lapping a sixteen-time finalist. Don’t go submitting something just to “win” an Honorable Mention, Finalist, or even 2nd Place. Write with the deliberate intention to win 1st place. Strive for nothing less.
Why? Because you’re my Kōsei. It’s not enough for me to win; I need to beat you at your best.
I’m placing you on notice. I mean to send this next “ball” into the stratosphere. And I’m asking you what you're going to do about that? Think you can prove me wrong? What’s it going to be? Are you going to let me shot call like this and then walk away with 1st place? Or are you going to make this my lie in February? You’ve got two full months to turn in your answer. Don’t let me down!
Oh, and one last thing… regarding my scorecard? “Ranging shots.” I’m dialed in. Are you?
