138 days to go.
It occurs to me that I should have been doing the weeks in reverse, but it’s a little late for that, huh?
Of late I’ve been overwhelmed by RL stuff, so I haven’t been doing as much creative stuff as I like. That means blogging is at a low and mental creativity, too. Rather like I’ve run low on gas. My horoscope assures me that’s all about to change, but we know how accurate those are…
In any case, I’m still plodding on the 0 draft of Book 3, and I’ll be hit with the revisions to Book 2 in a couple of weeks. I’d like to hit at least 50K before those come. I hope they won’t be too bad. I have input from my agent already on a couple of things that could use revision (she always makes good suggestions) and I’m hoping that the editor pulls the same things (as I’ve already decided how to fix those issues.)
So, for a little side fun…
On one of the groups of which I’m a member, we’ve been talking about the first story we remember writing. Here’s mine:
In second grade, my teacher Miss Baeza wanted to send a short story I’d written to Highlights to see if they would publish it. But she wanted me to change the ending. I didn’t want to do that. At the same time, I really liked Miss Baeza, and I didn’t want to say no to her. To solve my dilemma, I took the story and hid it in my father’s file cabinet. Then I told my teacher I couldn’t find it. Sadly, this became the truth because the file cabinet swallowed the story whole. I never saw it again, ever.
The story involved a group of animals who escaped from the zoo. The ending that Miss Baeza didn’t like involved the animals being caught up by a magic carousel and trapped there as carousel animals forever. (I suppose she wanted a happy ending from a second grader.)
Imagine my surprise when reading Susan Dexter’s book The Ring of Allaire, where the mighty warhorse Valadan is freed from the carousel where’s he’s been magically trapped–as a common carousel horse–for centuries.
My jaw dropped. I cried.
I have loved every one of Dexter’s books, partially because I knew that somewhere hidden in her father’s file cabinet, she too probably had lost a story about animals trapped on a carousel…
Do you have a hidden story?