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About Writing
Back in the good old days of Live journal I used it as my personal diary and sometimes forgot to click on “private” in the drop down so it was sort of like a Rear Window event only I was the victim or the murderer, not sure which. I did share a lot of my attempts at writing fiction in that ghostly world of on-line journaling. But it was unsubstantial, like a life that only happens when you are sleeping.
I recently gave my novella to a couple of friends and then to a woman who is a professional editor. She offered to give it a read and then an estimate for the edit… This is about as REAL as I have gotten with my fiction writing beyond a few teen magazines when I was a teen and a cook book and short story anthology that I gave my oldest son.
btw, WHAT THE F*&K ARE EM DASHES?
forgive the brain fart
Here is what they have said:
- Friend who makes her living writing, or a portion of her living, we will call her J. “Hi Rio, I’m just starting to read your book. I love it! I don’t want to put it down!”
- Friend who is very much the opposite of sanguine. Lets call her D.: “Hi my birth name, I’ve read half your story and here are the notes I jotted down while I was reading. (The majority are spelling mistakes.)”
- The Editor, hence called “the editor”: I read the working name of my novella and found it very engaging. The storytelling is strong; you have a clear tone and good flow. I really like the stories within a larger story concept. You’ve created a dystopian environment that is still recognizable, and timely!” Then she said she would do it with suggestions for story for $1000 to $1200. I paid her $100 for the read and begged off for now.
Ack. Should I go in debt to get this book published? I am old. Am I just an old fool?
I would say yes. I am an old fool. This morning I received my first phone call from my grandson. He is 1 1/2 years old. He can say “Hi Nana” and his own name, and a bunch of adorable and clever things but when he gets tired of prompting he says, “whhheeeeeel, wheeeeeel, wheeeeeel” -which sounds like a British ambulance- and then, “BUTTERFLY!”
Gaud I wish I could do that when I feel overwhelmed by the pressure to do something awesome! Oh, hey, I did!
Words About 