With innate skill and perfect timing, Craig shared his story.
A family’s desire to bless their mother turns a last Christmas gathering into a forever moment.
Entering a circle of conversation between my husband and our friend Craig, I was in time to hear Craig tell the story of his family’s last Christmas with his mom at the seniors’ home before she went to glory. I was transfixed.
Craig’s story showed me that it is possible to change a depressing atmosphere into one of joy and hope and good cheer. I suggested to him that he share his story in writing, but he responded that he is not a writer.
A year later, a call for submission went out for stories for a Christmas anthology. I knew that I had to give sharing this story my best shot.
After several drafts, I emailed what I thought was my best, polished version, to Craig for his approval. He shared the story with his siblings who all gave it the go ahead. I submitted the entry and then got on with life.
A few months later, I received the much-anticipated response that the story was accepted. Craig was as excited as I was.
Then came the day that began the editing process.
Since I was going to be traveling and my timeline to get the work done was tight, I contacted the editor, N.J., about any needed edits. Part of the response I received was, “figuring out how to make it better can be time-consuming.”
Oh dear, I thought. My perfect story isn’t so perfect.
The good news was: she still wanted it.
“Show, don’t tell,” is instruction that’s on the lips of every editor, and should be for every author. I had “told” the first four paragraphs of Craig’s story; I hadn’t shown it. That’s when I switched to creative non-fiction.
I have no idea what actual conversations took place but I knew the main characters and had a reasonable idea of what conversations “might” have taken place. And so I wrote dialogue to help move the action along.
A few drafts later, the story was ready for publication.
The next hurdle was the title.
While working at the Toronto Public Library, I had the opportunity to read a lot of book titles. I knew that a title can make, or break, a story.
I scribbled titles on every piece of paper close at hand as each new possibility bubbled to the surface. I emailed several suggestions to N.J. who also sent me suggestions, all in an attempt to best present the story. Did she have to do this with all 55 contributors to the anthology?
In the early morning hours of the day the manuscript had to be sent to the publisher for printing, another title sprang to mind. This was it! But was I too late?
Hoping N.J. would have time to make the change, I emailed her the title. Weeks later, I opened the newly birthed collection of stories for the first time.
I turned to my story. There it was! N.J. had got the title, liked it, and made the necessary last minute changes. I gained a whole new understanding of and appreciation for the tireless work of N.J. the editor.
From conception to publication is a lot of work. It requires much fine-tuning and attention to detail. It is exhilarating to capture the right word, phrase, thought, title…. And finally, to display the printed product is not unlike showing off your newborn child.
Now, I’m learning about marketing, and that, I’m told is a whole other story.
Cori Mordaunt is an award-winning writer with works published in Nature Friend Magazine and the anthology Grandmothers’ Necklace. Recently retired from the Toronto Public Library, Cori plans to continue pursuing writing, music, and photography. Cori and Gene live in Toronto, Ontario. They have two happily married sons and six amazing grandchildren.
I liked reading your account of shaping the story of A Carol Sing to Remember. It certainly was worth the effort.
In the story itself, I liked the parallel you drew at one point between the most important character’s approach to singing and to life. Enjoyed the way you described the growing enthusiastic group that helped to make the Carol Sing a party. Appreciated the reality involved in your son’s comment, and your gentle redirection of his thinking. It’s a carol sing in which I’d liked to have participated.