A dark morning of self doubt
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That's fine too, except it's not really a meteorite type of book. It's more of a Fried Green Tomatoes type of book, without the lesbians. And, I'm beginning to understand, without the sales potential. I'm really not sure what I was thinking when I started it. But now it's acquired a life of its own. A crude sweater has taken shape, missing a hole for the head, and still I keep knitting away.
But such is the glamor of the writing life. You hammer blindly at the keyboard, hoping there's an invisible muse out there leading you along by the nose, and that she's not rolling her eyes at the awkward turns of phrase, the particularly egregious cliches. And you pray she takes a more active role in the second draft.
Comments
It is clear to me that you need to read McKee's book: Story.
Stock