The race is on. My brother sent me the first 80 some pages of his latest YA novel. Even though I'm a book ahead of him, he's fast approaching my speed. I read it and drat, it's good. He is writing in first person. This is something that has eluded me and I want to try, but not yet.
I have been struggling with what to do next. I have decided to pull the first book I tried to write out of the ashes and resurrect it. I am going to look at it as if someone else wrote it...edit the beginning...and then jump into it. I haven't done much writing these past few weeks. I just open my folders, re-read my musings, and then close the folder. Nothing I've done appeals to me. How sad is that?
I've asked my muse for a little help, but so far she sits silently, twiddling her thumbs in the recesses of my mind ... can figure out what the heck she's waiting for ... I could really use some inspiration. I do, however, know from experience that she will nudge me sooner or later. I just wish it was sooner.
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