That, Children, Is How We Digress

First of all, I don’t understand how half of these referring sites are related at all to my blog. Andy. Please explain.

Okay, so before I get to work today, I must talk about feedback. My untitled novel, The Steampunk One, has passed the 12k word mark – which I realize sounds more arbitrary than just rounding down to 10. I’ve seen the in-progress bars on some of your sites, which is super cute, but haven’t felt the compulsion strongly enough to procure one.

I'm lactose intolerant, Mother!

Anyway, I have reached a new place in my writing – one that makes me feel like it’ll sound like (I like to say like) I’ve been stagnant and playful in my craft for the past twenty years. I round up to eight when determining when I first wrote a story, even though I distinctly remember the story of a doe named Feline – pronounced feh-leen and what was wrong with me. That back-to-school night, my teacher taped it to the face of my desk for my parents to admire. I remember my mom carrying my tiny baby brother, Carlton, and saying how much she loved the name. (Which, you see, is where I get it.) My dad wanted to see the science fair exhibit in the gym, for which my sister Jennifer had once again or perhaps for the first of what seemed like many times made teeth out of plaster of paris and styrofoam cups and sawed them in half before diagramming the anatomy. Of course, this was back when he was telling my two sisters that they would be a doctor and a dentist. Back before his obsession switched to the creative – which unfortunately was too far in the future for him to be all that intrigued by my second grade teacher insisting to him that I was her only student who wrote songs. (I cringe to think about the type of songs a second grader writes – although I still remember the Christian songs my sister Jennifer used to write. I still sing them.)

O_O That was a mighty digression. The point of this post was supposed to be about feedback. And to lead up to that, I was going to say how I’ve reached this wonderful point – I am relatively sure I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. With the genre, with the concept, with the story living up to either of them. It’s. Pretty awesome. There’s a whole entry I could write about how this all relates to my relationship to God. But I just wrote a journal entry about it. I can’t say I never had intense moments, particularly when I wrote TMLA – about which I could also write an entry because it began life as a dense 53k word literary novel and I know it needs to be somewhere between that and the 80k words it is now. I’m sorry, I just had to mention. Anyway, what I felt with that one was an intellectual obligation – to digest and articulate the social predicament I was describing. But most of the sinking feeling was – “Lord, I don’t wanna argue about this.” That was me looking ahead to the response to the material. But this is different.

Anyway…I guess I’ll write about feedback tomorrow? (I’m a winner, folks.)

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8 thoughts on “That, Children, Is How We Digress

  1. I think the mental adversity that has arisen due to the work required to make an entire world thrive in a unique, interesting, and plausible manner will bring the best out in you. Victory is always sweeter when you had to struggle to win.

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      • Okay, I was kinda hoping the laws of querying would somehow not apply to me and no one would ask me the genre question.

        I don’t know. Woman’s fiction, maybe. Probably a bit too introspective to be mainstream but not quite literary.

        The YA is collecting dust in a corner. It needs revisiting (with a hacksaw) but might someday see the light of day. Maybe it will only be practice in the end. I still kinda like it, either way!

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