Tonight I went to Barnes and Noble and read some "best of" short story collections to guage my writing against what the experts consider the best recent short fiction. I finished a story today that started creeping in my brain three years ago. a writer can easily fall in love with their own words, and I am guilty of that at times. I tried some new things with this story and some of them don't work, but I'm proud of it and I like it. It may be one of my favorite pieces I've done thus far. I love the protagonist, all the characters. I saw them all very clearly in this story. That can happen if you're lucky and the muse is with you. So I read some excellent stories, especially in the anthology of new fiction, meaning fresh voices unheard from before. I read this great story called "The Pilgrims" that roped me in after the first page. It had excellent use of setting and description. You could see and smell everything. The plot moved along and took unexpected turns, arriving at a surprising climax punctuated by a moment purposely stifled of its poignancy. I rushed home and re-read my story, over 6,000 words of muse-driven bliss (in my eyes). After the first page I knew a terrible truth: I wasn't close to "Pilgrims" or anything else I read in those collections. I finished my story. Midway through I got lost into the story and forgot that I was supposed to be critiquing my own writing. Then it dawned on me. I am a good writer. Parts of what I have in this new story are excellent and on par with the supposed "Best New Voices". I sense my own limitations though. The woman who wrote "Pilgrims" made sparse use of adjectives and adverbs. Her diction did not contain doctored up language. She stayed to-the-point and did not rely on flowery descriptive language to bog her down. The story flowed naturally and felt like it should have gone where she had it go. In my own writing I sense the forced feel and the open-ended story telling. This happens because I struggle with endings. I develop a story and characters and take it to the climax, then don't know how to throw in a resolution.

I see that my story writing has serious steps to take, but I feel myself getting better. A mentor, my own writing Yoda would greatly help, as would some workshops and classes. This is all in me if I let it out. And let it go, more importantly. I don't want to hold on to this craft too tightly. I get scared that what I write isn't understood or isn't very good. I wish I could explain the joys of writing. My family and friends don't care much at all about my writing, which is sad. I'd love to share my creative side with them and use them as barrometers, but no one has ever asked to see my writing. Dan remains my only influence and colleague, and an inspiration to reach his level. He isn't there yet either, but he's a much more well-rounded story teller.

When you write something new you allow for thoughts and ideas to proliferate. You've brought something special into the world for everyone. As long as people are still writing the world has a chance, because that means people are still dreaming, still hoping. Even if a story is abysmal and painful to read, it represents the creation of an entire new world by a person. To date, I have not been moved to tears or laughter by anything I've written yet, but it is coming.