Breaking Out of Your Writerly Comfort Zone: In Vein, Part 1

There are three things in writing that make me wiggle with discomfort: present tense, short stories, and a male point of view.

Present tense feels unnatural to me, and rarely will I fall into a book that uses it well.

Short stories... why on earth would you write anything shorter than a novel? In general, my short stories are chapters in disguise. How do you think my WIP began?

A male POV. I don't have brothers. I didn't have the experience of watching a guy grow up and deal with all the weirdness that being a guy encompasses. I enjoy having male friends, but I'm always afraid a male narrator / main character will simply be a girl in a guy's clothes.

I like to tackle fear head on.

In college, I wrote something that encompassed all three of these things. It was a short story... only because the assignment called for a short story. I decided to test out the male POV, because it seemed most natural for the story I wanted to tell. And in my third draft, I realized it was meant to be written in present tense. It's not perfect, but I'm pretty proud of it.

I guess you'd call it humorous "New Adult" fiction.
I call it "In Vein."

If at this point you'd like to skip my short story, feel free! (Though I hope it's worth a look.) Just be sure to stop by the comments section and tell me what's outside of your writerly comfort zone, and if/how you plan to tackle it head on!

In Vein, Part 1
“Is this your first time?”

“What?”

The old lady at the table looks up at me over her glasses. “Is this your first time?” she repeats.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Without warning, she reaches up and slaps a red and white sticker on my shirt. It lands just below my left nipple. I look down to read it. “Be nice to me – I’m a first-time donor!” the jolly drop of blood announces.

Sitting down, waiting to be called, I already have second thoughts. I’m new at this whole do-gooder thing. Of course, I signed for organ donation when I got my driver’s license, but it’s not like anyone ever expects that to happen. Imagining giant needles and the snap of rubber gloves, I can’t remember what impulse had made me stop when I saw the “Blood Drive Today” sign staked in the ground outside the Campus Center. Probably low blood sugar from not eating lunch yet. Or those two hours I needed to kill before my next class. Then I had noticed that there were only two people in line. And recognized the curvy profile of Natalie Vance.

Okay, so my reasons aren’t noble. At best, my blood is used to save someone’s life and Natalie confesses that she worships me. At worst, I get a free STD test. Not that there have been many opportunities for me to contract an STD. Or is it STI? I shake my head. The world’s going downhill when there are PC terms for shit that can make your dick fall off. Either way, being disease-free is one of the few perks of not being remotely in the realm of man-whore.

“Devin Kwi – ” The woman in the lab coat squints at the clipboard. “Kwiatkowski?”

Sending a silent, sarcastic “Thanks” up to my dead Polish grandfather, I stand and follow her to a table. Natalie sits at the next one, her back to me. Suddenly I’m transported back two years to freshman English when, for a glorious semester, I sat four seats behind her and two rows to the left, which supplied nearly the exact same view. Her wavy black hair proved to inspire me, encouraging a wide variety of daydreams that ended the exact same way. My C+ probably had as much to do with her as it did with my being an Accounting major and not giving a damn about Chaucer.

After eight minutes of answering questions and one finger prick, I learn that the Red Cross would, in fact, like my blood. I’m not so sure that I want to give it anymore, but then my white lab coat lady points me to a different white lab coat lady, and I know there’s no turning back.

Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for Part 2 on Friday!