I’m spring cleaning. Actually, I started in January—one shelf, one drawer at a time. My office is out of control and I need it back in control so I can start the Legend Christmas anthology project.
In dusty folders I found evidence of years of persistence: marked up manuscripts, scribbled notes, e-mails from critique partners. And I’ve thrown much of it away—years of trying to write a salable romance, years of rejection. Thankfully Resplendence editors saw something worthwhile in my effort. That’s why I’m able to toss out dusty printouts of A Man of Her Own and The Reunion Game [Ladies of Legend: Finding Home].
In one drawer I discovered typed short stories. You heard me right. I said “typed.” Old technology. These stories were written in high school. Okay, I admit to seeing 1967 on one of the cover pages.
Here’s a little excerpt from a short story called “The Thoughts of Peaches Paisley.”
Peaches Paisley bit her lip as she brushed her long, blond hair. Other girls were drifting out of the locker room and were beginning to repair smeared make up and tousled hair. Paying no attention to the chattering girls, she stared at herself in the full-length mirror.
“They’re right!” she thought. “I have changed!”
This was the first time that she had realized the drastic alteration in her appearance. Gone was the well-shaped figure and the laughing, sky-colored eyes. The mirror reflected a skinny, under-weight girl with a pale complexion and pale, life-less eyes. Peaches chewed her lip harder as she fought back tears.
What do you think? I see the need for deep POV and a grammar checker. It needs a better hook and stronger verbs. But discovering these old stories was fun.
In one folder I found the magazine article I used for inspiration in The Reunion Game. It’s billed as “a step-by-step guide for making that premier encounter as close to perfect as possible... .” You get the idea. Jane, my heroine did.
Another scrap of paper turned out to be a page long description of my high school reunion, the event that inspired The Reunion Game. One sentence sticks out. Funny how some things are “meant to be.” One classmate old me, “From what I remember about Jan, I knew you’d be a writer.”
In dusty folders I found evidence of years of persistence: marked up manuscripts, scribbled notes, e-mails from critique partners. And I’ve thrown much of it away—years of trying to write a salable romance, years of rejection. Thankfully Resplendence editors saw something worthwhile in my effort. That’s why I’m able to toss out dusty printouts of A Man of Her Own and The Reunion Game [Ladies of Legend: Finding Home].
In one drawer I discovered typed short stories. You heard me right. I said “typed.” Old technology. These stories were written in high school. Okay, I admit to seeing 1967 on one of the cover pages.
Here’s a little excerpt from a short story called “The Thoughts of Peaches Paisley.”
Peaches Paisley bit her lip as she brushed her long, blond hair. Other girls were drifting out of the locker room and were beginning to repair smeared make up and tousled hair. Paying no attention to the chattering girls, she stared at herself in the full-length mirror.
“They’re right!” she thought. “I have changed!”
This was the first time that she had realized the drastic alteration in her appearance. Gone was the well-shaped figure and the laughing, sky-colored eyes. The mirror reflected a skinny, under-weight girl with a pale complexion and pale, life-less eyes. Peaches chewed her lip harder as she fought back tears.
What do you think? I see the need for deep POV and a grammar checker. It needs a better hook and stronger verbs. But discovering these old stories was fun.
In one folder I found the magazine article I used for inspiration in The Reunion Game. It’s billed as “a step-by-step guide for making that premier encounter as close to perfect as possible... .” You get the idea. Jane, my heroine did.
Another scrap of paper turned out to be a page long description of my high school reunion, the event that inspired The Reunion Game. One sentence sticks out. Funny how some things are “meant to be.” One classmate old me, “From what I remember about Jan, I knew you’d be a writer.”
