People were saying such nice things about the new book that I kept popping in to Amazon to see what else they were saying.
I’m not allowed to look at reviews. I’ll never learn to really ignore them, so Best Beloved keeps up with them, and shares the ones I need to see. No, I don’t need to see the negative feedback. It’s not helpful, not constructive, serves no purpose to me.
Perhaps the only 2-star review of any of my books, ever (though I did get a 1-star review once that still makes me chuckle.)
Ah, well. Note to self: don’t do that.
My new writing process includes some initial brainstorming to feel my way through the idea, some vague outlining which is essentially a list of sequences (groups of related scenes) in a spreadsheet, and then a process I call quickdraft.
In essence, I go through the story like a 12-year-old describing a book they read:
“First she does this, and then this happens, and she goes there an, um, some stuff happens I don’t know what but because of that she has to do this other thing.”
Gaping holes, bad writing, no description. It’s just a way to get the story told, the whole thing out there, so I can turn it around and flip it over and poke and prod to see if it holds up.
Today I finished the quickdraft of Love Runs Out, my first novel with a female protagonist.
I hope it’ll be published before year end, but no promises for the moment.
I think I’ll go play with cover ideas.
It used to be called anacrusis before I figured out what I was really doing.
Site became cluttered. New stripped-down look.
Working on mobile page width glitch.
When Sue read the near-final draft of Rafe Keyn and the Temporal Lisle I only wanted one piece of feedback: does it work?
No writerly feedback. No plot ideas. No character suggestions. None of the stuff people always want to say to writers.
Did it suck you in and keep you in?
This late in the game, that’s all I need to know.
And her answer was “Yes.”
It’s being proofread right now, and I have one or two sentences that need polishing after my current read-through. The cover is done. (See? Right there above.)
I can see the checkered flag. I’ll keep you posted.
When I found out he had two weeks to live, I didn’t go see him. Not that I don’t know what to say; I’ve had training in dealing with bereavement and grief and death.
I should have gone. But one time I thought about it, I felt like I didn’t know him well enough to matter. Another time, I let the unorthodox family situation stop me; wasn’t sure who’d be there and how they’d be feeling or acting. Another time, I felt overwhelmed because though we weren’t close, I’d thought we would be; he was a good guy, smart, good conversationalist, sense of humor.
Talked myself into it. Excused myself out of it. Talked myself into it. Waited too long.
In the end I just waited too long to do the right thing.
They say heroes dash into burning buildings or flaming cars to rescue people without thinking. They act before they have a chance to get scared. My first impulse when I heard was, I have to go see him.
But I gave myself time to think, and I kept thinking until it was too late.