I have some serious weaknesses as a writer.
Detail is not my thing. I don't know architecture or furniture. Maybe that will come through in the rewrite. For the moment, all I'm interested in is getting the basic story out. It still hasn't completely revealed itself. But tonight, despite my struggling with the details, I hit another pocket and found myself swept up into the story even as it flowed through my fingers.
Granted, I cannot claim it on my taxes, but I am a writer. I always have been. But it takes so much self confidence and willingness to make a lot of sacrifices and to be a complete failure...I became too practical. That was the problem. As a single mother I didn't have time to waste on fantasies of being published and being successful. I needed a solid plan. Problem has been, none of those plans has ever been completely me. Since I wrote my first poem in kindergarten, I have been a writer. Maybe not a great one, yet, but regardless, I can spin a yarn.
But anyway, tonight has been great despite the obvious layer of crappy writing. That's why it's not about being a writer, but a re-writer.
I'm suddenly very anxious to find out what happened to Katherine all those years ago.
Novel pages complete: 45! 11, 806 words.
It's quite a breakthrough.
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