Writing

For years I have sat on...The Novel. Years. I wrote the first story when I was 15. I have rewritten it at least twice and made changes constantly for the past 12 years.

And no one has read it in its edited form.

Since I actually "finished" it, no one has read it. I think a total of maybe four people read the first draft version I wrote when I was 15. Yeah. Four people and they were about as helpful as moss. They all liked it and had very little suggestions.  I have tried numerous times over the book's life to have other people read it and give me feed back. C got as far as when G and L hook up. And I didn't hear much after that. I even set up a livejournal account where I'd  publish each chapter after I'd finish my edits for feedback from my friends (who seemed to have massive amounts of time to read my livejournal at the time.) No one commented on it. I never got any feedback on the actual written work. No one had the time to read it.

I have worked through ideas with my friends. I have gotten new ideas for the book while talking about the book. I have feedback on character development in verbal exchanges.

It got to the point I didn't bother to ask anyone. I gave up on being a writer because I could not get anyone to read anything I wrote. I do not want to publish it on the web in a public manner either for fear of it'd get stolen. (It happens.) In high school I did creative writing classes and did not find it helpful in the least. I wrote what I thought was complete crap a few times and everyone LIKED IT. I was like WTF? I didn't take any writing classes in college because everyone wanted to be a writer in college. So, I gave up. I remember the day clearly when I gave up. I was working at the bank and had asked another friend to read the last installment (or one of the installment). His response was it was fine, but I should stop writing about high school.

I was standing in the bank at work, pretending to be a teller. I had just finished writing the sixth book in the series when he told me I should write about other things other than high school. I'll be honest. It crushed me, as the whole thing (referred to as The Novel) was my life's work at that point in time. It was my pride and joy. I loved the characters. I loved working with them. After I finished the first four books, I added another four because I MISSED THEM. (The second four books are not up to any parr and are still being sifted through and worked out, but the first four are pretty much done.)

So, that day at the bank, I just gave up. I gave up the delusion I'd ever be published and that The Novel would ever be an actual book.

I did not stop writing by no means. I kept writing The Novel because I loved the characters. I kept reading and reworking because I loved the characters and I thought it was fun, but I never asked anyone to read anything, never entertained the idea of doing anything with it other than allowing it to take up space on various hard drives.

I have two friends who have read the "reworked" version. (Kinda. No one has read the version I am trying to get into shape right now.) All I know is that they liked it. I've asked for other feedback as I email the novels off, but I only hear "is there more?"

Hence why, after a whole year and half of ignoring The Novel, I got it out. I hadn't finished the second four books and had only a vague plan. I know where the characters are going and where they end up. I just have to get them there. So I set to work.

Then, I got the idea that maybe The Novel could work as a published work. I just needed some other eyes to look at it and give suggestions and edit. So, I spent three months re-reading and reworking the first book. I changed some things, tried to tighten up the plot line...and then it was done. So I asked my family for help.

I'm sure my brother hasn't open the file. It seemed just as I emailed it, drama broke out, so there is no time.
I know my father has opened it and spent at least and hour on it. That was all he said.
No one has shown my mother how to operate comments in Word. This either means she hasn't read it, or she's reading it and not giving me any feedback.


And thus, the curse of no one having the time of day for the novel occurs again. I understand people are busy. I understand things take prescient over my book. It just frustrates me to no end. Because if someone gave me something to read, I'd read it. I'd make the time. I'd find the time. I always did. It might not have been the most timely thing in the world, but I'd sit down and do it. And it'd try my best.


And I know there will come a time when some stranger will have to read it. And they will not like it. And they will have no problem telling me this much. It would be nice, though, before this happened, someone I knew and trusted read it and told me what they really thought in the actual manuscript. I was secretly thrilled when I did a paper in college where we emailed the Word doc to the professor and he used the Tracking feature to leave comments and edit it. It was brilliant and I was like, "OMG! This is AWESOME." Since college, I have grown to kind of get a sick joy out of people editing and commenting on things I write. I call it a sick joy, because it used to upset me greatly when people would change things I had written. I had many a fight with my mother when she'd be editing stories I had written in high school (hence why I never handed over The Novel to her before).


But, I'm kinda ready for it. I realized when I had emailed the Student/Professor story to my mother and she, well, she hated it. And I knew she was right. It needs a major re-haul and I think I don't write adult characters very well. When I wrote the story the easiest and most fun thing to write was when the character was in college. So, I have ideas and feedback on that (well part, I let her stop reading as it seemed to be causing her great pain and I was embarrassed).


But, the thing that came out of it was I knew I needed work and where I needed and it was HELPFUL.


I just feel kind of BLARG at the moment. I feel a bit better now that I've written it down. Now I will shower and get ready to face the snowy day. And tackle the closet.