I replied with an explanation about why I had stopped blogging. You know, the busy life thing which included writing my second novel, working full-time as a speech-language language pathologist, reading, socializing, and embarking on playful adventures.
Still, that email reminded me how much I enjoyed blogging. Blogs really are a free flow soap box, a public journal of sorts. I liked reading your comments and I liked connecting with so many people around the world. Just last month seventy-one visitors from France stopped by. I'm not quite sure how they discovered my minuscule, inactive blog. Regardless, "Hello France!"
I also crossed off a super-sized item from my to "want" list—finishing draft two of novel two. Hold your applause and don't head over to Amazon and look for it. Finishing draft two of a novel does not mean I'm ready to publish. What it means is, I deleted all of the really bad parts of draft one.
Writing a novel is like creating pottery.
|The potter begins with a lump of clay.|
|The writer begins with a blank page.|
The potter spins the wheel and maneuvers fingers to form an original design that is tailored in imagination. The writer does the same with pen and paper.
I can't speak for potters, or even for other writers, but for me the first draft is the most fun. It's when I let my thoughts spill onto the page without censor. I wouldn't however, try out a new recipe on a guest and I wouldn't let anyone, not even Mom, read my first draft.
The first draft is dreamlike. The second draft is realty. Mine took over one year to arrive at, "The End." It certainly is worth celebrating, but "the end" is such a deceitful little phrase. If I were a potter, I'd be at this point:
The story still needs detail, depth, color, glitter.
Eventually the creation will evolve.
The Second Draft....