I had to get away and hide inside a book today.
Last week I was challenged to a 250 words snippet contest.
Since then I have re-written, re-shaped, re-vised, re-blurbed the first 250 words
of a prologue and a first chapter to see if I could mangle it into something
that would be intriguing enough for a potential reader - well to read on.
I don't know my story anymore. (And my characters are puking in a corner)
In addition to my never ending manhandling these first few sentences,
I put each new version up for inspection on my writer-board.
Now I have an additional 250 versions.
Now I know I'm trying to hard at times (always) and because of my bilingualism
my English is just as - lets call it unusual - as my German.
But when you get to the point that you don't trust yourself anymore
to write down a straight sentence because someone else might see a fault in it,
it's better to unplug keyboard and brain and do something for yourself.
Books have always consoled me.
I shall embrace one that is already written.
Btw. The prologue consisted of 250 sentences with more than 30 (some had over 40!) words each.
My fellow writers would have ripped that apart...
Yet it got published.
Maybe tomorrow I make a fresh start.
And listen only to the voices again.
The ones in my head.