Sag Harbor, Day Two
This morning, Mom chose two pages from my novel to show a writer friend of hers. This afternoon, the writer friend called to talk to me.
The writer friend teaches a creative writing class. Science fiction and fantasy isn't her thing, but that didn't matter. She told me that my writing was "powerful, evocative, intense, poetic, rich, beautiful, capable of pulling the reader in easily..." She said more things, and all I could do was stammer "Thank you" over and over. She suggested that I rewrite the first few paragraphs of the first chapter to reflect the intensity of the scenes she had read. She kept going back to the bit she loved most: "Fear of the dark. Fear in the dark. Monsters under the bed that weren't monsters because they were real. You can't disbelieve in something that you know exists." She told me how much that paragraph pulled her in, and that just from the two pages she'd read, she knew I was ready for publication. All I could do was grin like a lunatic and thank her over and over. It will be done soon. I can see the end.
Adam, Charlotte and I went into Sag Harbor town today, had pizza, walked along Long Beach and collected seashells, walked around my neighborhood admiring the surrounding woods. The weather has been beautiful. Most of my past visits have been during cold, brisk weather full of icy snaps and frost. This is still autumn weather.
Dad will be barbecuing for dinner, and we will feast. Tomorrow, Mom and I will go to thrift stores like we did when I was younger, and it will be a good day.
I am fighting a migraine. I had hoped being here would keep flares and pains from happening too often, but I was wrong. That makes me sad a little bit.
The writer friend teaches a creative writing class. Science fiction and fantasy isn't her thing, but that didn't matter. She told me that my writing was "powerful, evocative, intense, poetic, rich, beautiful, capable of pulling the reader in easily..." She said more things, and all I could do was stammer "Thank you" over and over. She suggested that I rewrite the first few paragraphs of the first chapter to reflect the intensity of the scenes she had read. She kept going back to the bit she loved most: "Fear of the dark. Fear in the dark. Monsters under the bed that weren't monsters because they were real. You can't disbelieve in something that you know exists." She told me how much that paragraph pulled her in, and that just from the two pages she'd read, she knew I was ready for publication. All I could do was grin like a lunatic and thank her over and over. It will be done soon. I can see the end.
Adam, Charlotte and I went into Sag Harbor town today, had pizza, walked along Long Beach and collected seashells, walked around my neighborhood admiring the surrounding woods. The weather has been beautiful. Most of my past visits have been during cold, brisk weather full of icy snaps and frost. This is still autumn weather.
Dad will be barbecuing for dinner, and we will feast. Tomorrow, Mom and I will go to thrift stores like we did when I was younger, and it will be a good day.
I am fighting a migraine. I had hoped being here would keep flares and pains from happening too often, but I was wrong. That makes me sad a little bit.