Earlier this weekend, I mentioned to some friends that I was working on my second novel. The reaction was as I expected:
“You wrote a novel?”
“Can I read it?”
“NO. I still need to edit it, work on another draft, and get it in a more presentable state.”
“I can read it and critique if you’d like.”
“NO. It sucks and definitely isn’t ready for human consumption.”
This continued on for several minutes.
Alas, everyone assumes my putting-down of my trunk novel is modesty, not my actual feelings about it. I wonder if people realize that novels aren’t perfect upon creation. But I’m preaching to the choir (argh, cliche).
But, as to quote one of my friends, “How do you manage to write a novel with all the stuff you do for school?”
One word at a time.