This morning, I printed the second draft of my book. When I transferred the stack of paper from the tray of my printer to my desk, the weight of it surprised me. For a brief moment, it became a tangible recognition of the efforts I have put into the project.
Writing, as with any creative endeavour, can be a lonely process. Until other human beings can hold our book in their hands, we writers must eke out a little bit of satisfaction from wherever or whatever we can, even from an inanimate wad of paper.
3 comments:
congrats on the 2nd draft -I know what you mean about wads of paper - I call mine 'suitcase novels - just sent in my second short story to Paragon :))
I have a novel 7/8 finished. It's been that way for a long time. I'm tired of reading it. Shorter stuff is more fun.
Yes, writing anything but a short story or an article gets tiring. I have two novels unpublished. One of them is good enough, I feel, to make it to print ... if I find the strength to edit it, for the umpteenth time. I did not know you wrote, Bev. God on you.
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