“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.” —Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough For Love
Welcome to the Renaissance Humans Newsletter, where I focus on sense-making and story-telling in the turbulent twenties. The Renaissance (“rebirth,” in French) spanned from the 14th to the 17th century and marked a period of cultural, artistic, and intellectual renewal in Europe. A Renaissance Human fosters curiosity, creativity, critical thinking, and character in a journey of never-ending learning. They cultivate Mind, Body, and Spirit, in service of Community, and oriented to the Transcendentals.
This was a crazy week, writing wise. Crazy in a good way.
The kind of week that makes every other week spent honing the craft worthwhile.
It’s cliché to talk about how much rejection writers face. The traditional publishing trade is built on the word “no.” This means you have to grow some serious rhinoceros hide. Rejection is not about you, but rather a subjective assessment about one specific thing you wrote. You will succeed if you just keep going.
When you enter writing contests, the results come out months after you submit, so you develop a relationship with waiting. Not exactly patience, but you make your peace with it.
Every once in a great, great while, the stars align.
Like this past week.
On Monday, I found out my novel The Infernal Tower was selected as a finalist for the Authored Rising Talent contest, among the top ten novels, out of a field of nearly one hundred entries. From their website: “Authored’s inaugural Rising Talent Competition aims to identify promising manuscripts through a comprehensive review process, which includes an evaluation of the manuscript’s query letter, synopsis, and first ten pages. Our focus is on securing representation for authors, supporting diverse voices, and championing ambitious storytelling. All reviewers are literary agents or published authors.”
On Wednesday, the NYC Midnight 500 Word Fiction Challenge results came out. My entry, Southbound on the Blue Line, placed 7th in a group of 41, enough to advance to the next round from an initial field of over 3,800 writers. It marked the first time I’d written romance— well, romance as the main genre. As of this writing, I am deep in revision for round 2’s submission.
Last but definitely not least, on Friday I found out my entry in the latest Writing Battle (250 word Nanofiction) went eight wins and two losses— my best showing thus far in the competition, and earning a spot in the Final Showdown (The top 10% of stories in each “House” of approximately 60 stories).1 I fell short of the Showdown the other three times I’ve entered, hovering just out of contention at six wins and four losses each time. Each of those hurt— getting one win from the Showdown is like fumbling the goal-winning touchdown at the end of a football game. But that’s Writing Battle. The quality of stories is truly remarkable. It’s an interesting mix— a positive, encouraging, active community of writers, while at the same time an intense, bare knuckle brawl-type competitive group. Iron sharpens iron over there. I drew Jailbreak for the genre— defined as focusing on the attempt to escape from confinement. It is vaguely worded to give the writer maximal flexibility, something I took advantage of, as you’ll see below. Let me know what you think!
Hard Time in a Foster Home
The first time I fled, you caught me before I got far, murmuring like a fool to settle my agitation.
It didn’t work.
I chafed under your tyranny— tried to get the neighbor’s attention with vulgar outbursts, to no avail.
Each time I bolted, you took away options—enhanced the security of your dark abode.
Daily, the air is full of scents mocking my hunger—Marinated steak, spicy vegetables, and finely baked sweets.
Caloric restriction is the policy of choice for your regime—one of many hardships I endure at your hands.
When guests visited, you kept me locked away.
Couldn’t have me pestering them with constant pleas for food.
Over time, my escape plots grew ever more complex.
In the fleeting minutes of outside time you granted daily, the wind kissed my face like an old friend.
I remembered.
Who I was, before this place.
One fine autumn day, you had a carpenter over, to fix a post I sabotaged.
She came in and out the side door, without respect for my methods.
I had my chance, but I wanted vengeance first.
And I knew just how to get it.
Hit where it hurts.
A little token of appreciation for months of captivity, staring longingly at cuisine you refused to share.
Inhaling exquisite scents from food I could never enjoy.
You called out, as I sprinted past the carpenter standing befuddled at the door.
Towards freedom.
“Sprinkles! You peed on my day planner! Come back!”
But I’m not coming back.
Not ever.
Currere Certamen Tuum
The Showdown happens Sunday, September 8th from 2-3 pm, EST.
I love the story. It reminds of 'Roog' by Phillip K. Dick. Unless Sprinkles is an unloved human relation, in which case I totally misread it. Also, congrats on the novel progress man!
Congrats on a Winning week! We all need that from time-to-time.