It looked okay when I wrote it. . .

I got a notice the other day that an online journal was open for submissions. I went to my folder of unpublished stories and found one that I had written almost two years ago that I hadn't looked at since. It was kind of long for most publications (almost 8000 words), but it was a good concept: a failing marriage, symbolized by the destruction of an historic building to make way for a banal office plaza, and hope symbolized by the potential of a lottery ticket.

I reread the story. The characters were good: the husband, a law librarian who'd flunked the bar exam three times and is now having an affair with a graduate student. The student is beautiful, bright, and passionate, but wanting something permanent. The wife is bitter, accusatory, and having an affair of her own with a married man we never see, but hear on the phone. There's a daughter, a teenager caught in the middle. There are some good descriptions: the restaurant that serves healthy sandwiches to college students. The scene where father and daughter make supper together. The painful phone call between the mother and her boyfriend. A dramatic, heartbreaking climax.

But problems appeared that I hadn't seen. The dialogue was okay. In spots. In others, it sounded ridiculously affected and unrealistic. The characters would discuss things which, logically, they would already know. The time sequence was unclear. I found myself telling the characters, "Oh, get on with it, for Christ's sake!" Towards the end, I had to force myself to finish it.

When I did, at last, my first thought was that on the whole, it was lousy. Just plain lousy. Amateurish. I tossed the manuscript aside - literally - and stewed. I was ashamed of having written it. More than that, I was angry that I'd written it. What a waste.

On the other hand, as I've noted above, there are some things about it that are salvageable. Even good. Marty, the husband, is an interesting guy. He's kind and wants to do the right thing. He also never achieved the success that he'd once hoped for and has had to settle for something considerably less rewarding. He's tried to make the best of it, but face it: he's a failure. His pretty girlfriend isn't going to change that. And Emily, the grad student, is sweet and loving, but she has ambitions of her own. She's smart enough to realize that there's no future with a middle-aged married man of limited means and, probably, limited abilities. Katherine, his wife, is turning into a hardcore alcoholic, but she's had more than a few disappointments in her life. You can't blame her for being bitter. Maybe the girl, Abbie, is the most sympathetic character of them all. I think that she has the best grasp of the whole dismal situation.

I'm glad that I looked at the story again. It's called "Lottery Ticket," and as I look over the paragraph I've just written, I think that it has potential. But it will take work. A good deal of cutting is in order, for starters. Emily is too idealized, and Martin's failures are glossed over. And I'm too hard on Katherine, I think.

And I'm working on another piece at the moment, too.

I'm glad I didn't delete "Lottery Ticket." Or any of the fragments, sketches, and false starts I've got in my "my writing" folder, and its various sub-folders. Not everything is going to be resuscitated, of course, but who knows? "Learn from your mistakes" is not a cliche. It's good advice.

I should take it more often.