Let's take the boat out, wait until darkness

Since my novel is saved to my Gmail account, I've been able to view it in HTML, which has been useful in showing me that it sucks. Seriously, it sucks. I think I shall be doing a huge amount of editing soon. It was begun by an innocent 20-year-old, so now I think it needs to be completely revised by a slightly more mature 27-year-old.
I do like the last few chapters. They were written within the past several months.
I really shouldn't say this. People have told me how good it is. But we alone are our harshest critics. I can't hope to be as good as, say, Neil Gaiman, or Francesca Lia Block, because I am not Neil Gaiman, or Francesca Lia Block, nor will I ever be. I can hope to be as good as me. And if that means revising and editing, so be it.
My husband wants his birthday present from me to be a printed copy of every chapter I have so far, spiral bound, so he can finally read it. It makes me cringe. He reads George R.R. Martin and Terry Goodkind, for gods' sakes. They're epic. I'm a child.

These are not-good thoughts. Oh, I hate when fluctuating hormones influence thoughts. Bad, very bad.

But, on that note, because I am being so fucking contrary, here's a slice of the completely revised first chapter, just to prove myself wrong. But I bet it's still not as good as it could be. More revising to come.

( The Beginning... )

Let's take the boat out, wait until darkness

Since my novel is saved to my Gmail account, I've been able to view it in HTML, which has been useful in showing me that it sucks. Seriously, it sucks. I think I shall be doing a huge amount of editing soon. It was begun by an innocent 20-year-old, so now I think it needs to be completely revised by a slightly more mature 27-year-old.
I do like the last few chapters. They were written within the past several months.
I really shouldn't say this. People have told me how good it is. But we alone are our harshest critics. I can't hope to be as good as, say, Neil Gaiman, or Francesca Lia Block, because I am not Neil Gaiman, or Francesca Lia Block, nor will I ever be. I can hope to be as good as me. And if that means revising and editing, so be it.
My husband wants his birthday present from me to be a printed copy of every chapter I have so far, spiral bound, so he can finally read it. It makes me cringe. He reads George R.R. Martin and Terry Goodkind, for gods' sakes. They're epic. I'm a child.

These are not-good thoughts. Oh, I hate when fluctuating hormones influence thoughts. Bad, very bad.

But, on that note, because I am being so fucking contrary, here's a slice of the completely revised first chapter, just to prove myself wrong. But I bet it's still not as good as it could be. More revising to come.

( The Beginning... )

Let's take the boat out, wait until darkness

Since my novel is saved to my Gmail account, I've been able to view it in HTML, which has been useful in showing me that it sucks. Seriously, it sucks. I think I shall be doing a huge amount of editing soon. It was begun by an innocent 20-year-old, so now I think it needs to be completely revised by a slightly more mature 27-year-old.
I do like the last few chapters. They were written within the past several months.
I really shouldn't say this. People have told me how good it is. But we alone are our harshest critics. I can't hope to be as good as, say, Neil Gaiman, or Francesca Lia Block, because I am not Neil Gaiman, or Francesca Lia Block, nor will I ever be. I can hope to be as good as me. And if that means revising and editing, so be it.
My husband wants his birthday present from me to be a printed copy of every chapter I have so far, spiral bound, so he can finally read it. It makes me cringe. He reads George R.R. Martin and Terry Goodkind, for gods' sakes. They're epic. I'm a child.

These are not-good thoughts. Oh, I hate when fluctuating hormones influence thoughts. Bad, very bad.

But, on that note, because I am being so fucking contrary, here's a slice of the completely revised first chapter, just to prove myself wrong. But I bet it's still not as good as it could be. More revising to come.

( The Beginning... )

injury #249

I. Just. Badly. Banged. My. Shoulder. On. The. Underside. Of. My. Desk. And. It. Really. Really. Really. Hurts. Ow.

Ooh, tinglies.

Ow. Fucking ow.

My desk is actually a very long table. On my right is a trio of drawers. I was bending down from my chair and going through the bottom drawer, and I sat up quickly without moving away from the edge of the desk and wham my left shoulder has exploded in a cluster of fiery nerve pain and numbness. Hooray.
Maybe I'll do some more semi-permanent damage to yet another part of my body, yay! Just like when I fell flat on both knees on a linoleum floor and fucked them up for life. I really don't think the sprain in the right knee healed well at all. Especially because I didn't know it had been sprained until, oh, a year later.
I shall now massage the lotion with MSM and emu oil into my shoulder, and then massage the skin serum with emu oil and sea buckthorn oil and helichrysum and frankincense essential oils into my shoulder, and hope the bruises aren't too fierce.

injury #249

I. Just. Badly. Banged. My. Shoulder. On. The. Underside. Of. My. Desk. And. It. Really. Really. Really. Hurts. Ow.

Ooh, tinglies.

Ow. Fucking ow.

My desk is actually a very long table. On my right is a trio of drawers. I was bending down from my chair and going through the bottom drawer, and I sat up quickly without moving away from the edge of the desk and wham my left shoulder has exploded in a cluster of fiery nerve pain and numbness. Hooray.
Maybe I'll do some more semi-permanent damage to yet another part of my body, yay! Just like when I fell flat on both knees on a linoleum floor and fucked them up for life. I really don't think the sprain in the right knee healed well at all. Especially because I didn't know it had been sprained until, oh, a year later.
I shall now massage the lotion with MSM and emu oil into my shoulder, and then massage the skin serum with emu oil and sea buckthorn oil and helichrysum and frankincense essential oils into my shoulder, and hope the bruises aren't too fierce.

injury #249

I. Just. Badly. Banged. My. Shoulder. On. The. Underside. Of. My. Desk. And. It. Really. Really. Really. Hurts. Ow.

Ooh, tinglies.

Ow. Fucking ow.

My desk is actually a very long table. On my right is a trio of drawers. I was bending down from my chair and going through the bottom drawer, and I sat up quickly without moving away from the edge of the desk and wham my left shoulder has exploded in a cluster of fiery nerve pain and numbness. Hooray.
Maybe I'll do some more semi-permanent damage to yet another part of my body, yay! Just like when I fell flat on both knees on a linoleum floor and fucked them up for life. I really don't think the sprain in the right knee healed well at all. Especially because I didn't know it had been sprained until, oh, a year later.
I shall now massage the lotion with MSM and emu oil into my shoulder, and then massage the skin serum with emu oil and sea buckthorn oil and helichrysum and frankincense essential oils into my shoulder, and hope the bruises aren't too fierce.