The credit whore is returns

Now that is a title which would grab someone who just came upon this blog!

Some of the past few posts have already brought up my stepping out and putting out a couple of my pieces onto a writer's forum called Urbis. A major step for me.

Giving stuff you have written to friends and people you know has a safety net. When you give it to people who have no idea who you are has no safety net.

For me, I don't care if people are commenting on the grammer or problems like that. Will people get what I am trying to say? Is what I am saying just a load of crap?

Well that last question doesn't really haunt me any more. This blog has started to stop that whispering demon that haunted me while I wrote. Starting here, I found a voice, realized I do have something to say, and if people don't want to listen, so be it.

But the past few days have been stunning. I have not received a single review saying what I wrote was crap. The most general thread, and I can see it, is the beginning hurts the story. As one reviewer wrote:

It took me a little bit to get into this story.. perhaps because it was narrative at the beginning..

Another example is:

im having a hard time on where to start my review of this piece… at first i was going through nit picking sentance structures and one thing became apparently clear: this story needs a major re-write.

Yet, there was this one which inflated my ego (already a little too big):

I am very impressed with this piece. It flows well, has a riveting plot, excellent dialogue, an your grammar is flawless.

But, one of the major parts of a long review was what got to me:

I was sad each time Four eyes came back to them, and reported another loss, but enthralled at the love they had for King Gwefldn, and for Tryffin.

In that simple line, the reviewer told me he got it. I pulled it off.

In some ways, I needed this. I have been a bit sluggish about Tangled Threads. Up to now, all my writing projects have been short stories which I finish within a few months. This has been a project that has taken up almost 10 years of my life.

The little voices come and go to haunt me, making me wonder who in the hell do think I am believing I can do it? Words from my parents reminding me this is just a hobby, nothing serious bubble up every so often.

Today was a day of taking stock. It started with the hint of a migraine because of nicotine withdrawal. Once I got some cash & some cancer sticks, the start of the migraine was mitigated. But I still have a slight throb behind my left eye.

Because of that, I didn't go to work. I was alone here, to organize what is going through my system. It has been a while that I have been so jazzed about my writing. Far too long. I forgot, in some ways, why I write.

I'm going to ride this wave. The printer has been pumping out pages. I have been revisiting old stories. The goal: get more feedback and prepare The Sacrifice for publication. I've made the first step. Time to organize the next.