“So it is that a writer writes many books. In each book, he intended several urgent and vivid points, many of which he sacrificed as the book's form hardened.”
This has been an intense week. Our writing group met last night to read our work to each other and tonight I get to read my chapter aloud again in my formal writing class.
After editing over and over the class will likely see more awkward language, pacing problems, and less than stellar descriptions. I'm sure I'm ready and then I hear myself aloud.
They have the text in front of them so I can't edit as I read. "That sounded weird. Why am I using that word? My character sounded so lame." All these things cross my mind as I read to these fellow writers. They are kind but pointed. They want me to improve. I want to improve. It is a painful process. It is a glorious process. Six people are taking me serious enough to read and listen to my work. How great is that?
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My novel Rubato
A story of a woman's longing for beauty and her struggle to keep the beautiful even when it didn't belong to her.
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