So I’m reading this story in Spinetingler’s submission basket last year. It’s pretty good. The character interested me right away, I wasn’t sure what he was up to -- nice for the tension -- plus some of the things he WAS doing were pretty f-ing scary.
Conflict! The essence of story.
Another wonderful thing: The writing flowed, easily slipping the images and ideas into my head. I barely noticed the words as I gobbled up what happened next.
Spinetingler receives a good number of well-crafted stories, but most aren’t, so it’s always a treat for me to find something that's really fun to read. Stop the presses, Sandra! I am actually being entertained.
Zip, zip, zip went the first 2,000 words of the story. Oh, man. What is going to happen when Martin finds her in the shed? Tick, tock, he’s holding that sharpened axe ... but she’s got the gasoline can...
Nothing happened.
What? That’s the end? But ...
Damn. That’s not good enough for Spinetingler. Yes, the author entertained me for 2,000 words, but short stories need an ENDING. It’s why we readers love them. Twists, surprises, or (like our current fiction entry) a haunting answer to an original question. You have to pay the reader off for getting all the way through. It’s the prize they’ve earned.
Okay, I decide I like the rest of the story so much, I pull the rare caliber from the arsenal. I email the author, ask for a new ending. I’m very polite. The whole idea is up to her, I say. Maybe another editor will like your (stupid fucking nothing) ending. It’s only my opinion.
No, she says. I think you might be right. I’ll try a new one.
Great. She’s smart, I think, knows how to take criticism.
A week later I receive a new version of her story with a top-notch finish. Now trust me, I’m old-school good with twists, in that I’ve been reading mystery stories for half a century. I’d figured out what a Speckled Band was before that snake crawled into Sherlock’s chamber.
But this author had done a fine job fooling me. And I was pretty pleased with myself, too. By pushing this author, suggesting the story needed work, I’d helped create another quality short for Spinetingler.
I’m pretty sure you guys would have loved this story. I say would have because the jerk author just pulled the story nine months after making a deal.
“I withdraw (the story) for publication from Spinetingler. I guess I've just got itchy feet and so have been submitting it to a few contests.”
Oh, really? This is the same story you agreed in writing to sell us? Wonder what those contest people are going do with your original manuscript when they discover Spinetingler owns first worldwide rights?
Itchy feet, my ass. And sticking with the body parts theme, Itchy Feet has a lot of balls. To let us help her with the story, then go shopping elsewhere with it? Ingenious scheme, perhaps. Receive a free edit before submitting elsewhere.
AAAARRRRGGGGG!!!
Some of us around here want to send Itchy Feet white powder in an envelope. Others want to name Itchy Feet, maybe run her picture, humiliate the writer publicly. Publish a map to her house. Only one chickenshit staffer thinks revenge is beneath us. He says if Itchy Feet doesn’t want to shine alongside Spinetingler’s great writers, it’s her loss, not ours.
I think we should leave it up to you, our readers. Name her? Run Itchy Feet’s story (which we completely, legally, and morally own) despite her little tantrum? Only we’ll byline it Itchy Feet.
What do you guys think?
Originally Published June 2015 by Jack Getze
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