I Can't Do This On My Own...But That's OK

I wrote the first three chapters of my new London-based historical, a short, kicky little number that begins with a airborne firefight. Nice. I finished, thought it was pretty good--no great shakes, mind. Just a solid bit of writing.

Liz, my friend and writing partner here in Wisconsin, sent it back to me. Um, you wussed out on the action and the sex is, well, lacking. Dull.


Rewrite. I spent most of yesterday giving this thing a once over. I completely scrapped chapter three. Maybe parts of it will come back, but it's certainly no ready-for-primetime, series-selling action.

Then Patti, the hot den mama of my online critique circle, was hanging out on IM. I talked to her about the rewrite, and she said to send in along. Done. Much better, she told me--coz she had the stinky first draft too. BUT...still not on it.


Rewrite. This time I took Patti's beautifully detailed advice and really amped up everything. I've been leaving stuff out. As a result, it hasn't been clicking on the page the way it should.

Ah, but now I can honestly say that I'm charged up about Lulu and Joe. I want to talk with them for a while, or watch as they burn up a room with way too much physical chemistry. THIS is what it should be like. They come alive for me tonight in a way that had been lacking. Sucks that I have to move on to the next book in the trio, another three chapter proposal instead of carrying on with this story, but I leave them with the confidence to tackle two more worthy couples from my imagination.

Just because this is my literal day job now doesn't mean I have to give up on the magic of making them real to myself first.

Thanks, ladies. I owe you, but you know I'm good for it.

Tough, you think you've got the stuff.
You're telling me and anyone
You're hard enough.
But you don't have to put up a fight
You don't have to always be right.
Let me take some of the punches for you tonight.
Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own" by U2

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