Last week, I edited seven chapters of my own book, seven chapters of my friend’s, and one chapter for another writer. This, in addition to planning a week’s worth of lessons, a murder mystery party for New Year’s, and getting sub plans ready… My eyes are falling out and my brain may be broken.
But, I love it.
I have thoroughly enjoyed hearing the feedback my friend has on my book. I had no idea how many times I used loooooong descriptive sentences to get my point across. I also had no idea how many times I describe something to death. Bad habits to add to a growing pile…
I have also turned my first chapter over to a writing group to which I belong for their critique. We meet next Sunday. I’m not sure if I can stand the suspense. My biggest fear? They’ll all look up at me and call me out for the fraud I sometimes feel I am. “Get out of here!” they’ll cry, pointing at the door. “Honestly – did she think she was a REAL writer?”
Okay, so maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but I can’t help feeling nervous, excited, and a little like I might throw up.
But again, I love it. Writing has become more than a hobby in the last couple of years. It’s become something I think about all the time. I’m constantly on the prowl for things to add to my next story. At the gas station the other morning, I watched a teenage girl crawl out of the passenger side window of a beat up Chevy Malibu while her mom waited behind the wheel. The girl saw me looking and threw her chin up defiantly – almost daring me to say something before walking into the gas station. My immediate thought was: “I HAVE to use her in one of my stories!”
Okay – time to end this rambling entry! I started out with some succinct thoughts – really! Ugh – poor broken brain!