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The results are coming in
So far I've gotten back critiques on the Tower!Guy novel from two of the four people that I sent it out to and I couldn't be more pleased with how thoroughly they read the novel and what a terrific job they did.
I really lucked out big time in that regard. I couldn't have gotten better folks to give this thing a read through.
First and foremost, both of them said they liked the novel overall, and that it was a good novel. I trust that they'd tell me if I wasn't or if it was a hopeless cause.
Also, none of the things pointed out in their critiques are fatal flaws. With some rearranging and adjusting of things, I think it can be an even better novel, one that (*fingers crossed*) might be worthy of sending out somewhere. I know that right now, in this belt-tightened market and the market that is likely to ensue in 2009 and 2010, that more than ever, I need to have something really spectacular to hand to an agent and/or editor.
Of course, there are some mistakes that they pointed out that make me absolutely angry and frustrated with myself, because they seem like such obvious mistakes. Amateur mistakes, even. And I so desperately don't want to be a rank amateur anymore.
I want to be good that this. No, scratch that, I want to be fabulous. I'm not usually a terribly ambitious person in other aspects of my life. In day jobs, I don't tend to care about advancement up the ladder. I can't say that I give a damn about status symbols such as cars, clothes, and fancy things.
But in writing? I feel a kind of motivation and drive that I don't feel in any other aspect of my life.
Not that I aspire to either fame or fortune. I certainly have no illusions that writing books about such things as dragons and werewolves will garner me either. But neither of those things precludes me from being a spectacular writer if I work hard enough at it.
In the end, for me, this is about telling a truly incredible story in a truly incredible way - and I suppose I'm still a bit frustrated that my reach extends so far beyond my grasp. Not that it shouldn't always, but there's a difference between arms length and lightyears.
But that's the one advantage of my situation. There's a simple solution to this sort of frustration which involves the reapplication of one's nose to the grindstone.
When in doubt, get back to work, I guess.
I really lucked out big time in that regard. I couldn't have gotten better folks to give this thing a read through.
First and foremost, both of them said they liked the novel overall, and that it was a good novel. I trust that they'd tell me if I wasn't or if it was a hopeless cause.
Also, none of the things pointed out in their critiques are fatal flaws. With some rearranging and adjusting of things, I think it can be an even better novel, one that (*fingers crossed*) might be worthy of sending out somewhere. I know that right now, in this belt-tightened market and the market that is likely to ensue in 2009 and 2010, that more than ever, I need to have something really spectacular to hand to an agent and/or editor.
Of course, there are some mistakes that they pointed out that make me absolutely angry and frustrated with myself, because they seem like such obvious mistakes. Amateur mistakes, even. And I so desperately don't want to be a rank amateur anymore.
I want to be good that this. No, scratch that, I want to be fabulous. I'm not usually a terribly ambitious person in other aspects of my life. In day jobs, I don't tend to care about advancement up the ladder. I can't say that I give a damn about status symbols such as cars, clothes, and fancy things.
But in writing? I feel a kind of motivation and drive that I don't feel in any other aspect of my life.
Not that I aspire to either fame or fortune. I certainly have no illusions that writing books about such things as dragons and werewolves will garner me either. But neither of those things precludes me from being a spectacular writer if I work hard enough at it.
In the end, for me, this is about telling a truly incredible story in a truly incredible way - and I suppose I'm still a bit frustrated that my reach extends so far beyond my grasp. Not that it shouldn't always, but there's a difference between arms length and lightyears.
But that's the one advantage of my situation. There's a simple solution to this sort of frustration which involves the reapplication of one's nose to the grindstone.
When in doubt, get back to work, I guess.