In the hope that this will be helpful, a concept I found useful was the idea that I was there to try new things, and so it was -good- to fail at a few, because it showed I was working outside my comfort zone. Thus a terrible, terrible attempt at screwball comedy was born, and someday I'll get around to re-writing that and taking out the zeppelins (but not the muffin-making robot).
I'm working on my first Write-a-Thon story this morning, nudging sentences together and looking at them. I get to be as modernist and self-reflexive and drunk on language with this one as I want, according to the anthology guidelines, and so I am having Fun with a Capital F. Here's an excerpt. I know it's currently too over-wrought, but at some point I'll take a detailing file and remove some of the adjectival excess.
Listen to things spoken in the rain. Words that hover like icy helicopter blades between the raindrops, the ones you can almost / sometimes/ always hear. Splats of roseate conversation plunging like besotted bumblebees to the sunken garden grass, drop-drumming on ancient fort lumber, crumbling on St. Joseph's island.