To say, “my life hasn’t been easy lately” would be among the grosser understatements of late, so focusing on the good that has come (and keeping my private life off of the Internet), seems to make the most sense.
I had readers six and seven (female and male respectively, and in very different age groups) finish the manuscript in the last week. They’ve been the first readers of the new version, with new first chapter.
Reader six’s comments shook me hard - she refused to talk to me about it until she could digest what had happened, and then told me she cried at the novel’s conculsion, dreamt about it the next night.
Reader seven spoke to me today about his reactions, and beyond the grammar nuances he picked up - for which I’m so grateful - all of his feedback was positive. He’s been the second reader now who’s said that the ending “devistated him” - he said it broke his heart twice, and that he fell in love with my characters. He wanted to share it with a friend.
Watching people have positive experiences with my writing is so odd. I’m disappointed that I can’t find a better adjective for it, but I suppose that’s the one that’s living in me right now. It’s incredibly fulfilling - and it almost feels undeserving to have reader after reader tell me that they couldn’t pry it out of their own hands. Of course, I’ve worked as hard as I can on it, but I keep bracing myself for the “Well, this didn’t work here…” comments, and they haven’t consistently come. I know I’m extremely lucky, and they will come once professional eyes run over it. So, for now, I suppose I’ll take the smile it brings and draw the feeling that maybe, just maybe there’s something good on my hands. I now know that I’ve never wanted anything more.
M
