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Postcards and That Other Thing

I got brave last night and actually opened up Postcards.  I haven’t looked at it since I put the last punctuation mark on the page nine days ago.  It’s…not bad.

I’m actually sort of cringing about the amount of work that needs to be done on it.  I definitely think I can clean it up and make it ready for a test run with my betas.  I’m just not sure how long that’s going to take.  The good news is that it has good bones.  It’s a solid story underneath.  I just need to finesse it a bit.  Okay, a lot.  But there are parts that made me grin, parts that I liked a lot, and then some parts that made me wrinkle my nose.  I didn’t do much fixing yet, mostly just seeing what needed to get done.  It’ll be quiet a task, that’s for sure.

In the meantime, I saw an open submission call that really piqued my interest.  The dead line is only two months away though.  I’m going to try and see if I can get the plot bunny on the page and develop it into a real story.  There’s a lot going on in my life right now though, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it ready in time.  It might be a fun exercise anyway, though.  Even if I don’t get it done in time, that doesn’t mean the story doesn’t need to be told, you know?  When there’s a lot going on in my head, sometimes I need to get things out on the page to make room for other stuff.  Then, either the story develops into a whole tale…or it dies a dignified death.  Neither thing is bad.  And the good thing about this plot bunny is it would take place in the Highlands of Scotland.  And I’m very, very lucky to have me an inside source.  If I got anything wrong, she’d tell me flat out how to fix it.  So at least I know the details would be accurate. 🙂

At any rate, I’m still writing and editing and fixing.  And  it still feels very good.  And with my first release on the horizon, I’m giddy with anticipation and excited to keep all the good feelings going.  I write because I must.  But I also love the hell out of it.  Even when I’m frustrated beyond belief.

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