Friday Feedback: Will this Be Your Summer to Fly? (and. . . the Rules).

One of the perks of sticking with it?
getting to meet and hang with some of your own personal heroes!
Here, with the truly awesome human, Chris Crutcher.

"I've always wanted to write a book."

You've been saying this for years.

Or, better yet, you started a book years ago, but never found the wherewithal to finish.

So, what exactly are you waiting for??

Oh right:

              The right moment.

              Enough time.

              Proof you can really get it done.

Proof it won't suck.

Proof you don't suck.

Proof you won't have wasted all that time.

https://giphy.com/gifs/65ODCwM00NVmEyLsX3

Yeah, forgive me for laughing, but . . . good luck with that.

Because no matter how long you wait (AND if you're me -- and most the writers I know -- it won't matter how long you actually are published for,) you are never going to have ANY of those occur.

Not time.

Not proof.

Not really.

At least not without YOU drilling opposite messages into your head. Here they are:

The time is now.

THIS is the right moment.

There will NEVER be more time than there is now.

There will NEVER BE enough time.

Ever.

And, there is absolutely no proof you can get it done. Like, zero. Well, except for the empirical fact that you have hands that type, presumably a laptop (or writers notebook, or very long scroll of toilet paper), a brain that works (most days), and a pen. Therefore nothing but YOU is stopping you.

You're welcome.

But seriously. Very few of us have the luxury to just start out as writers (or ever do nothing other than write to support ourselves). The first complete manuscript I ever wrote took me five years. When I started it, I had a colicky, impossible toddler, a baby in my tummy, and worked from home as a lawyer writing per diem motion papers and representing a few of my own clients on the side.

By the time I finished the manuscript, I had a six year old, a four year old, and was working three-quarters time running my own law practice. Oh, and p.s. that book never sold. Never saw the light of day. Nor did the one I wrote after it.

ALL my writing during those years took place from 10 pm - 3 am, and, yeah, some mornings I was very very tired.

Here's something else, with a fifth and sixth book coming out in 2020 from major publishers, I STILL don't know if I can do it again. I still don't know if I'm wasting my time. If I have anything to say that's worthy of all the effort and revision and rejection. So that most days, surfing the internet and ordering clothes from Free People is way easier than butt-in-chair to see what -- if anything -- comes out of me.

And, then, somehow, I do it. I write that page.
That sentence.
That scene.

The one that makes my heart race, that comes up out of me from who knows where (though, once in a while, I have an idea...)?

The one that sends me chasing after the next sentence, after the characters, and, eventually, the whole of their story waiting to unfold.

And I let them march forward (knowing I can change it all later if I want to), let the characters take up enough words, enough moments in my head, that they start to occupy this space that's less thought and more magic. And just a tiny bit of promise. I allow them the space to come alive and remind me that THEY have something to say.

I have NO idea if this is the right place to start, but it's
A place to start, which is better than not ever starting at all. 

I focus not on the book/story at first, but the small moments, the characters, and hope they will be enough to bring me back a second day and sustain me.

So, for now, STOP worrying about the big picture, and march forward with the small.

STOP asking if you have the time, and make (take) it.

START somewhere.

And once you do, don't turn back. Not now. Later you'll know whether that was the right ultimate starting spot, but right now, if you are typing, it is.

And STOP asking if your words will be good enough, and just write them.

You can change them later. I promise. And you will.

But there is nothing to make pretty if you never write it at all.

Having said that, welcome to Friday Feedback! And, hey, guess what? I'm in your shoes. Working on something new and I'm not quite sure what it is. The working title is EDGES and you've seen a few glimpses above. In a minute, I'm going to share an excerpt with you from the opening for your feedback (because that's how this works). Then, you do the same in the comments.

If you are a first time participant, before you get started, please read -- and abide by -- the rules!!!

But first, in case you've gotten here, and you still don't know how it works:

How it works. Easy peasy:

Every week, I -- or one of my awesome guest authors -- will share a tiny bit of writing wisdom followed by an excerpt of our own ROUGH, UNPUBLISHED writing for your feedback. In return, we offer you the same opportunity: to share a brief excerpt in the comments for feedback from us -- AND from other campers!). 

See? Simple.

Now, HERE ARE THE RULES: 

1. The Feedback should always be given in this order:

• WHAT WORKS (and why)?;
• WHAT MIGHT NOT BE WORKING if anything (and why)?; and
• ARE YOU COMPELLED TO KEEP READING?

Please note the order of those. Here at Friday Feedback, our first goal is to be encouraging. We highlight the gems in one another's writing before we offer up constructive criticism. If you launch in with constructive criticism, I will hunt you down and fine you. Okay, well, I will hunt you down and scold you. :) 

2. The excerpts should not exceed three (3) paragraphs, if long, five (5) paragraphs if mostly dialogue or otherwise short. This rule holds even if I, or my guest authors, post a longer excerpt. If you put up more than the requested length, we do not promise to read beyond the stated limits. And PLEASE DON'T MAKE US CLICK ON A LINK TO READ YOUR EXCERPT ELSEWHERE!!! If you're having trouble posting, feel free to email me at g.polisner@gmail.com

You may post excerpts through Saturday and I will check in, but I do not require my guest authors to read past close of business Friday. 

3. We ask you to remember that this is just for illustrative and enjoyment purposes. There is only so much we can realistically glean from a brief excerpt out of context. Friday Feedback is intended to be instructional and inspiring, but please know our feedback out of context of a full work must always be taken as merely that. Your job here is to take in the information as you will. Keep what you like. Toss what you don't. In the end, you are the boss of your own writing.

4. You may be the recipient of one of my patented "Superspeed Flash Edits."

Okay, fine, they're not patented, whatever. Sometimes, if your excerpt lends itself to me doing one of these, I will do so: namely, zip through your piece editing for passive voice (where not intended) unneeded words, wrong punctuation, repetition, etc.

I will NOT edit your own unique voice or substantive writing. This is an exercise intended to demonstrate how revision/clean up/intentional writing can truly make our voices pop and shine. And this is almost always SECOND DRAFT STUFF -- the stuff of REVISION -- when you are sharing first draft stuff, and so, again, is merely intended to make you aware of potential tics and such that take away from your own beautiful work, so you can get on that stuff DOWN THE ROAD.

If you do NOT want to be the recipient of a Superspeed Flash Edit for any reason, please message me at g.polisner@gmail.com and I'll remember not to edit you, or even say so right in the comments. :) 

5. To elaborate on one of the points above. . . I know many of you work summers and may not find time to post your excerpt until late Friday evening. I do not ask any of my guest authors to return Saturday, but some of them are willing. I will often return Saturday morning to give stragglers feedback. Please don't post beyond that. Please note that Friday Feedback takes a lot of work if the comments are busy, and my, and my guest authors', time is offered to you for free as a source of inspiration and encouragement. If you participate here, please order my newest title, IN SIGHT OF STARS, or any of my other titles if they appeal more to you, and when possible, please order the newest title of my guest authors. If you are unable to purchase copies, it is almost as good to reach out to your local library and ask them to order it in if they don't have it already! 

And, now, without further ado (because that was already a LOT of ado), here's the current very opening of EDGES. Believe you me, I'm nearly as nervous as you are to share, especially since it's not my usual comfort zone of YA. But, too bad for me. So, here it goes:

Twenty-three Years Later.

Paul

Paul Sobel stares at the ceiling thinking about some damned bird, as he has been doing for -- well, how many hours has it been now?

He lifts his wrist out of habit to check, but of course he stopped wearing a watch ages ago. God forbid he didn’t give in and learn to use that damned cell phone for everything, like everyone else does. Time. Internet. Weather. Texting, for God’s sake. Texting. All forms of human contact. A damned slave to some metal and glass box filled with pixels, helpless to function when you suddenly find you don’t have one on you.

Well, honestly, then, he has no idea what time it is.

It could be 8 pm. It could be midnight. Hell, it could be 2 am.

His stomach growls, and he wonders vaguely, again, how many messages are piled up on his cell phone where he left it on the kitchen counter when he headed down.

Down to the freezer to get some ice cream.

If June were here, none of this would have happened.

But the bird? The bird? What was that thing called again? Maybe it’s the loss of blood affecting his memory, or the pain in his low back and right shoulder, now replaced with a tingling nothingness. Or maybe it’s simply hunger and lack of movement. He’s barely eaten since yesterday.

A Casserole! No, no, of course not. That’s not it. That’s food. This was a huge emu or ostrich type thing that looked even more vicious and prehistoric.

A Cassoulet. Hah, no! Food, again. Some sort of pork and bean dish?

He laughs out loud at this, so hard he begins to cry. Stupid old pansy-ass is flat out crying, his whole upper body wracked with sobs.

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xox gae (see you in the comments!!)