A Week in the Life of a Reedsy Writer

(TW: swearing, sassiness, and schadenfreude)

Friday

You read over the story one more time, checking for any rogue adverbs, split infinitives, comma splices, or anything that could violate the terms of service. 

Clock check: 10:59 PM

Crap. One more hour, and you blink rapidly at the cursor on the screen. Does this even fit the prompt for this week? 

Too late to change. 

You’ve never been one of those prodigies that could whip out a story in the same day like Last-Minute Lacey. While you spend all week shining that one thousand nine hundred forty-two word (thanks Scrivener) turd short story, the other writers cook a well-done steak in less than twenty-four hours.

Oh well. You’ve always been a medium-rare kind of person, anyway. And now you’re hungry.

[Submit to contest ($5)]

↚↛

Saturday

Argh. Prompts this week are NOT working for you. Surely, one of the five would have resonated with you, right? Well, time to do some “research” for that historical romance you’ve been wanting to unleash into the wild.

[Google] Imposter syndrome: loosely defined as doubting your abilities. Feeling like a fraud. Affects competitive high-achieving people who find it difficult to accept their accomplishments. Many question whether they’re deserving of accolades.

Mmmk. Let’s try a different approach. Maybe you need inspiration.

[Netflix] Your friends keep telling you to watch that new show Heartstopper. Is it bad that you never read the webcomic? What kind of writer doesn’t read? If the world expected us to read everything, we wouldn’t have TV. #amirite?

[iPhone] 11:37 PM. Crap.

↚↛

Sunday

Alright. Today’s the day. Going to pump out that avant-garde piece that the judges have never seen before.

The blinker greets you. Why does it have to pulse at you so perfectly? A silent metronome. A ticking time bomb.

You feel very attacked.

You sip on your homemade cafe latte (made of oatmilk, of course, because lactose intolerance is stupid) and it’s the jump start you need.

The words consume you. Immersed in a sea of characters as the story comes alive and words fill the page. Time passes you by as your fingers float over the keyboard.

Scientist Susan tells you that your brain experiences an increase in dopamine, the chemical involved in pleasure and motivation. Maybe this is why you enjoy writing so much, because humans are hard-wired to seek out behaviors that make us happy. Kind of like that tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream you finished last week.

[iPhone] 9:40 PM. “Hey Siri, add Chunky Monkey to the grocery list.”

↚↛

Monday

To: Wistful Writer <hopefulharry@internet.com>

From: prompts@reedsy.com

Date: Monday, 11:46 AM

Subject: Your submission was approved!

Cool. That piece of hot garbage story you submitted last week made it through the first gatekeeper. Memories of story dismissal by Policy Paul still haunt you. Now, it’s customary for you to add a ‘TW’ line in italics at the beginning of every story. You know, the customary ones: swearing, sassiness, and schadenfreude.

In the comments section of one of your stories, Competitive Cathy told you how to click on your genre tag to see if you made the ⭐️Recommended stories for the week. The coveted longlist. The Pulitzer Prize for starving writers.

[Click <insert your genre tag here reader>]

You scroll down the page. There’s Talented Tammy again, holding two of the three winning stories in this genre tag. You feel a burning sensation in your chest. According to Google, maybe it’s jealousy. Nah, Scientist Susan once told you it could be heartburn or a heart attack.

⭐️Recommended stories: and there it is. “<insert your story title here reader>” by Hopeful Harry.

Your heart races as you do a double-take. Clearly, you don’t belong on the longlist. The story you submitted an hour before the deadline? You call Scientist Susan and tell her about your story and your heart palpitations. She tells you to go to the emergency room because you’re having an arrhythmia.

You go to Walmart and buy a tub of Chunky Monkey ice cream instead.

↚↛

Tuesday

Stupid blinker waits for you as you stare at the computer screen. Each pulse constricts your chest tighter and tighter, like a vice grip clamping down on your heart. Who the heck said writing was fun again? You need to cut them out of your life like those carbs Dr. Dan told you about; too many fake carbs for a fake writer.

You refresh the Reedsy page, and your pulse quickens at the little yellow dot on the bell. You follow the yellow brick road leading to your notifications: a like here and a comment there.

But what catches your eye comes from Insider Isaac:

Harry, what a great story! This might be my favorite thing you’ve written so far. I was hooked from the first line. Not trying to jinx you, but this one will definitely make it past the Wednesday round of eliminations!

Wait, what’s so important about Wednesday?

↚↛

Wednesday

First round of revisions. Did a third grader write this? Your You’re pretty sure you don’t deserve to be nominated for the award this week. 

Annoyed by your daily dose of writer’s block (speaking of, can you go to the emergency room for that? Mental note: ask Dr. Dan), you head over to the Discord chat with your writerly pals. You always preferred procrastination to progress, anyway.

[Last-Minute Lacey]: omg I haven’t started on my story yet. It’s going to be awful

[Competitive Cathy]: whatever @Lacey. You say that every week and you’ve won twice. #sorrynotsorry

[Last-Minute Lacey]: eww. You’re messing with my feel good vibes. And why aren’t you picking on @Tammy? She’s got three wins and ten shortlists

[Talented Tammy]: don’t drag me into this. Besides, all eyes are on @Harry this week. He’s still on the recommended list!

[Hopeful Harry]: aww c’mon everyone. I’m sure I’ll be eliminated this week like every other week

[Insider Isaac]: well, you’re still on the rec list. If you make it through all the cuts by tomorrow, you’ve got a good shot this week!

[Scientist Susan]: based on my data from weekly extractions of the recommended stories, only 30% of longlisted writers proceed to Thursday

[Competitive Cathy]: I’m not recommended this week so #idgaf. But happy for @Harry!

[Last-Minute Lacey]: don’t lie, your pissed

[Talented Tammy]: @Lacey you’re*

[Last-Minute Lacey]: omg my vibes rn

You close the chat, muting the channel to whittle away at this week’s story. No point in ruminating on last week. There’s no way you will make it to tomorrow’s list.

Right?

[iPhone] 11:14 PM. You refresh the contest page and click <insert your genre tag here reader>. Your breath hitches as you close your eyes.

↚↛

Thursday

You slog through the workday, your wayward thoughts wandering to what you saw last night: still on the recommended stories list. Your lips press together as you process emails. Why are everyone’s words hitting you the wrong way today?

Per my last email… (in case you suddenly can’t read)

CC’ing Deb… (let’s see you lie your way out of this one)

Thanks for your feedback… (your criticism is irrelevant)

Friendly reminder… (you’re getting on my nerves, don’t do it again)

Let me know if you need further assistance… (figure it out your damn self)

Moving forward… (don’t try me)

I’m a little confused… (I’m absolutely raging)

Let me know if you need anything else… (please don’t contact me again)

…Kind regards (you’re dead to me)

You slam the laptop shut, waving the white flag to another unproductive day. The Discord chat is pinging on your phone, but you mute the server indefinitely. Trophies line the fireplace mantle behind you, reminding you of the things you are actually good at. 

But writing is different. Sure, the technical stuff like grammar and punctuation are black and white(ish), but everything else is subjective. Characters. Theme. Plot. How do you know one is better than another, week after week? How do you protect yourself from comparisonitis?

[iPhone] Reminder: Workout at 5:30 PM. You shuffle to the freezer, pulling out Chunky Monkey and refresh your Reedsy page, your brain drowning in dopamine when you see the little yellow dot on the bell icon.

A like and a comment from Scientist Susan:

Harry, looks like you’ve made it into the home stretch. According to my data, 50% of the writers who make it into Thursday night are eliminated by Friday morning. I’ll be monitoring the data closely and have a macro to refresh the Reedsy page every fifteen minutes.

And a reply from Last-Minute Lacey:

Fingers crossed Harry! One of us needs to make it this week.

You open your laptop again, this time pulling up your Scrivener file. One more night to make the finishing touches to your trash masterpiece. You’ve never been like Last-Minute Lacey, who can pump out award-winning stories in one day. Or Talented Tammy, whose writing drips of poetic wax (or was the phrase wax poetic?).

Lying in bed, you stare at the ceiling. Dr. Dan’s voice echoes through your mind, soft and soothing, with reminders to breathe deeply. 

Yet, you grip your phone, refreshing the page, and forget to exhale.

↚↛

Friday

TGIF. You navigate about the day as you always do, looking forward to a weekend respite. Sure, you’ll stress yourself out writing another story, but truth be told, you enjoy it. While others live one life, you experience many. A knight in shining armor one week, a World War soldier the next. And every once in a while, a sweet romance that gives you hope in humanity.

You’re in the middle of a Zoom call when it happens.

The phone bings with the following notification: Congratulations, you were shortlisted!🏅

You flip the webcam off (Deb’s talking and won’t care), pulling up the Reedsy page. And there it is. Your name and your story. The Discord chat explodes as your writerly friends congratulate you. Even Competitive Cathy gives you a “good job,” which, for her, is like moving mountains.

And then it hits you, in the darkest space of your consciousness. Sure, the external validation is nice. You’d be lying if you denied how much you enjoy riding that wave of dopamine right now. But never doubt your ability, nor your worthiness as a writer. Fantasy or Science Fiction, Historical or Memoir, it doesn’t matter. Because you write from the heart, and it’s the truest thing you know. And no one can ever take that away from you.

Clock check: 11:30 PM

You gaze at your story, and a smile tugs at your lips. You repeat the cycle, because that’s what us writers do. One word at a time, one story after the other. Some weeks, you’ll nail it, and others, you’ll feel like a fraud. Some people like their steak well-done when you serve them medium-rare. Perhaps that’s just the creative life, riding the ups and downs as you figure it all out.

You shove another spoonful of Chunky Monkey into your mouth as you pull out the type a memorized credit card number to pay the contest fee. Because the only way you get better, dear reader, is to write. Write until it becomes part of the texture of your life, something that you do without thinking, like breathing. 

And on those really dark days when you’re feeling like the only person dealing with writerly problems, crawl out of your cave and find your tribe. You know, friends like Talented Tammy, Scientist Susan, Last-Minute Lacey, Insider Isaac, and even Competitive Cathy. Because they will be waiting, ready to read your stories and cheer you on, and will send you right back into the cave when you need it. 

[Submit to contest ($5)]