Writing submissions are my fruit basket

Lately, I’ve been thinking about Ralphie and his fruit basket.

I saw The Christmas Story as a kid and continue to enjoy the concepts it brought to life, from FRAGILE (fra-gee-lay) to cursing at furnaces to leg lamps to never licking an ice-cube.

As I write and submit my work to literary journals and to peers for critique in writing groups, it is this fruit basket story that sticks out most for me. In the movie, all the kids drop off a Christmas present for their teacher, but Ralphie wants to impress his teacher even more so she will grade his essay favorably. Rather than just give her a piece of fruit or card like his classmates, he plops a huge fruit basket rivaling Hickory Farms onto her desk.

Whether it is submitting my writing to a literary journal or for critique, by the time I am ready to hit “send” I am feeling, overall, pretty good about my work. Like Ralphie, I have just produced a bountiful basket of fruit–not just an apple like those other fools–and placed this basket on the recipient’s desk (after careful arrangement, of course).

I stare with his eager anticipation, ready for feedback like:

Stunning.

Never have I read prose that made me reconsider all of our classics.

The case for “late bloomers” has been made with this rich new voice. A voice , I dare say, of a generation! Albeit, an older generation.

Where has she been hiding all my life?

I can go on. I love a good discovery narrative!

As the months pass (in the case of submissions to literary journals) or as the critiques roll in (in the case of writing groups) I transmogrify into Ralphie in the second photo, below.

You can sit down, Eleni.

By now Ralphie has placed the fruit basket on his teacher’s desk and stares at her in gleeful anticipation. But when she reacts to his gift, it is not with adoration but like he has grown an additional (pineapple) head.

Instead of accolades, I hear:

I said you can take your seat, Eleni.

To back up: Recently, a bit delayed albeit, I realized my writing could use other perspectives besides my own. I decided to find or create a writing critique group. The only problem: I currently live in Athens, Greece, and finding a critique group in English would prove tricky. Rather than re-inventing the wheel–which in this ancient setting would have been apropos–I searched online and found Zoom-based groups in English. I tried several of them and whittled my choices down to two.

Recently, I submitted one of my short stories for critique to these two groups. Though I felt the piece was mostly finished (a stunner, really!) I still felt a primordial dread rivaling the snake in the grass of our cave days. Yet, once I stopped shaking, I found most of the feedback to be extraordinarily helpful in bettering my piece, and in seeing much that I missed in its telling.

Embracing my inner Ralphie has been extremely helpful because I am on to myself: At the end of every “finished” work of writing I will inevitably feel like I just put the bestest-biggest fruit basket in front of the about-to-be-stunned world. Then I will chuckle, pause, and roll the following quote instead:

Give it a few days, then revisit your work. You’ll be glad you did not submit this stunner quite yet. Sit down, Eleni!

This Ralphie approach helped me recognize that in a few days–possibly the next day–my writing will not seem as fresh and flawless and “ready” as I had thought. Both editing myself and using heads outside my own are key to creating my best possible work.

Ralphie tempers my expectations. He says: Keep editing. At least for a bit.

The wisdom of the fruit basket. Thank you, Ralphie. Your gift has borne more fruit than you realize.

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