I just read over the new opening to my novel. I’d last touched it at the end of April.

As I read, I felt questioning at first, doubts at the new direction, a great many, flooding through my head. Then I turned the page. I kept reading. I felt a prickling down my back, the shiver of something not yet nameable. I forgot the doubts. I read on. I remembered this line, that line, another. I came to lines I didn’t remember at all, not a word, as if someone had slipped into this file during the month of May and wrote them for me. But it was there, the new possible shape for my story, a door I’ve drawn carefully for myself and left open.

When I reached the end of my new pages, nine in total, I looked up, and out loud I said, Oh.

It was a good oh, a pleasant breath of an oh. These are nine pages I might not throw away.

7 responses to “Rereading”

  1. Scary thing, looking back on material, hoping it stands up to scrutiny. Something not to be attempted without having a good, stiff drink first. Perhaps that’s why so many writers have substance abuse problems. The terror that…it…won’t…be
    any…damn…good. Glad your excerpt made the grade. Good luck with it and your writing endeavors. Remember, perseverance gets you more published books (and readers) than talent. Something I’m still learning after 20+ years in service to the printed word.


  2. Yeah! Nine pages that are keepers!

    I love when I look back on things I’ve written and truly have no recollection of writing them…makes me feel like there really is such a thing as a “zone” and that every now and again, I manage to find it 😉


  3. I know the feeling you describe so well. When I read back after a few months, some pages seem to me as if written by someone else. It’s kind of scary, don’t you think?


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