The Chronicles of a Short Story

Back in 2015, I wrote a short story titled “The Pawn Shop of Intangible Things,” approximately 1500 words then, and approximately 1500 words now. I had a very clear inspiration, vision, and shape for this story almost from the get go.
It was about a mystical pawn shop, one where you could trade in intangibles such as emotion, memories, and ideas. The vibe I wanted to impart was something a la Twilight Zone and Welcome to Nightvale. Despite knowing how polarizing it was, I knew it had to be in second-person. Yes, second-person, where the pronoun of the story’s protagonist was the vague and strange and damning ‘you.’

I’ve always believed in the possibilities of second power narration.

I did edit that first draft, mostly to make the beginning hook better and the ending clearer, with the core middle of the story, the part with the main character in the pawn shop, staying mostly untouched save for a few nips and tucks of language.

A deadline for a lit mag that I believed the story would be a good for had a looming deadline, so I sent it off. I also sent it to my closest friend for feedback. The feedback bantered back and forth, and more from my own insecurities than my friend’s suggestion, I rewrote “Pawn Shop” in a much safer, more conventional third person perspective.
I sent that third person draft off to a number of lit mags.

Form rejections poured in.

Then, that first magazine I applied to, the one where I had sent my rough, second-person draft, responded. They really liked it. The editors didn’t have room for it in the nearest issues, but they would like to consider for a future issue in 6 months’ time.

I learned something in that moment about trusting my storytelling instincts. In the case of “The Pawn Shop of Intangible Things” third person could never catch the vibe, the aura, the strange-twilight-zone otherworldliness I was aiming for. All that spark, that clear-sighted inspiration I had the beginning of the project had been sanitized away for a version of a story that might tick off the correct checkmarks of conventional writing wisdom (don’t write in second person!), but lose everything that made it unique.

While that initial interest and hold for further consideration from the first magazine didn’t pan out, I started sending out my second person draft again. I received plenty of form rejections, but I also received a number of personalized recognitions, more than I was getting for my other circulating stories and way more than I ever received for my third person draft of “Pawn Shop.” There were some almosts and some ‘we really liked it but it wasn’t the right fit for our magazine and/or issue at this time but we’re going to list it as an honorable mention.’ (No lie.)

Two years later, in June 2017, I submitted said story to Baltimore Science Fiction Society’s Amateur Writing Contest. In August I received notification my story was a finalist. In September I learned I had won second place. On October 7, I got to go to a real life awards ceremony where I was invited on stage and had people shaking my hand afterwards like I was super important.

The award from the Baltimore Science Fiction Society is not attached to publication when it comes to second and third place (but it had come with a nice monetary prize), meaning ‘The Pawn Shop of Intangible Things’ had yet to find a home to be published.

However, it’s a winner. While second-person might be polarizing, might not be mainstream or conventional, and while I primarily write in third and sometimes in first, it was the right choice for telling this particular story. And winning, and getting those ‘almost’ personal rejections meant that there are people out there who are getting it, appreciating it, liking it.
The moral of this story is… do not give up after a few rejections, or a few years of rejections. Taken feedback in consideration, but make sure that you are staying true to your instincts and be willing to take the unconventional risks. Ultimately the vision of a story is yours, and sometimes success and finding the people who ‘get it’ takes time, but taking time is worth.

​And while you’re waiting, keep writing.