Reading my novel as a reader
Having returned from a 4-mile roundtrip walk downtown (I paused to play on a public piano–made my first 70 cents ever playing music, and gave 25 cents to the next player and 45 cents to a homeless man with a starbucks cup), I’m almost ready to begin reading the first draft of Sound of Stone.
I’ve been calling it a revision. Which it is. But it is also a first draft. Firsts and middles meddle with one another.
Well, I’m nervous.
Because I know there is improvement to be made. There are improvements to be made because parts of it don’t work. They need more sweat and craftsmanship. My dialogue is broken. My editor has reminded me several times of this.
But on reading one I will read through without a pen.
Then I will read with a pen.
I need to feel its flow.
To get the story right.
First (and foremost).