Feedback from samples of what I wrote over the weekend came back with this response: Too long. Waaaaaaaay tooooooo looooooong. Have I ever mentioned how I can’t shut up? Like when I write posts here and I can’t stop whining and I drive everyone away? Like right now?

Oh, yes, I knew the manuscript was too long, and I’m chopping, clipping, reshaping now. I could say much more about this process. I could talk about how, when I was a girl, I was too shy to talk out loud in a roomful of people—espcially a classroom—and the only way I was ever able to communicate anything worth saying was to write it down. I could say I held in so many things for so long and that’s why now I can’t shut up. I could say that all I wanted was for someone to read what I write, and when something is actually being published, when someday soon people will pick up the book I’ve written and read it—even if, especially if, these people are twelve-year-old kids—I just get so excited I can’t stop myself. Ask me for a story and I’ll write you a novel. Go on, ask me. Or maybe you shouldn’t. I could say much more about this, but I won’t. I am stopping




It takes great restraint.

4 responses to “Overboard!”

  1. Hmmm. Tell me a story about Googerly and Sugerly. Those were the names, weren’t they?

  2. LK says:

    I’m glad no one ever told Tolstoy or Proust they were too long.

  3. Pierre says:

    Quality vs. Quantity is always tough on the writer. Then again, sometimes -rare cases- they go hand in hand.

  4. nova says:

    Adam, yes! How could I forget?!

    LK, I LOVE THAT! And so true.

    Pierre, thanks, I am always trying!

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