"I’d sit cross-legged in the box, filtering the sand over and over again through an old spaghetti strainer, getting rid of the sticks and leaves that had fallen, until it was almost as fine as right after he poured the sand from the bag. That was perfect sand."
Friday, April 6, 2012
Last night, as I handed off my manuscript to one of my beta readers, I nervously prattled on:
"Thanks for doing this."
"I hope this isn't tedious."
"I hope it's at least somewhat enjoyable."
"I hope you don't hate it."
I might have said some other things. You'd have thought I was embarrassed by my writing; that I didn't expect others to enjoy it. But the truth is, this is the scary part. Sending my baby out into the world and hoping she does okay. Can she stand up for herself?
While I was writing, I didn't have these insecurities. It isn't that I was totally confident in everything I typed, just that I wasn't worried about it: I concentrated on the story and the characters. I tried to make the language as sharp as possible.
Here's my baby!
During the next few weeks, as my beta readers critique the 287 pages I've been working on for the last year and a half (geez, that's less than a page a day!) I should start my next project. Do what calms me most: concentrate on characters and story.