As of yesterday, I'm on page 125 out of 172 for the second draft. I love it. I love to find the holes in the story and fill them in. (After all that's what I used to do before the golden mommy years. But then that was in science or software and not the written word.)
Happiness is a quiet home, sitting at my desk -- coffee at the ready... a snack too... I close my eyes and become my characters. Am I young or am I old? How do I feel? Do I need a shower? Am I angry? Is it okay to be thirteen years old or am I five or god forbid -- 45. Hey somebody has to do the tough jobs.
A dear dear writing friend presented a piece at writing group, (BTW every single writer in the Nibs is incredibly talented and my life is richer because of them), that reported that writers are at their best approaching 50. This makes me very happy. If fame and fortune are going to hit, I don't have long to wait.
And as I fell asleep last night I found myself feeling very sorry for the younger set of our group.
2 comments:
Can't wait to read your piece in SUNDAY'S PAPER!!!! That's huge. At some point, you should build yourself a simple website so you can stockpile your clips, include a bio page, and a contact page. I'm finishing your book today--I'm lovin' it! :)
Great progress, PTC -- keep up the good work!
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