It went well. I tink I read well and managed to keep the audience interested. However, my story didn't get to be their favourite. One theory is that it was too nice, another is that it's fantasy, which is not a accepted genre among literary critics.
I'm beginning to care less about not making first place - the good part is that I got through my first reading alive and well. Every reading from now on will be less terrifying, which is very good, considering that readings are part of the job as writer.
Where is the next one?
My first reading
Yep. It happens tonight, at the literature house in my town. They have a special event for unpublished authors. Four authors share the evening, each has 15 minutes for a text, and 5 minutes for a discussion. There will be a vote for the audience's favourite at the end, and of course I hope that I'll make it.
I'd appreciate any crossing of fingers, squeezing of thumbs or any other good-luck gesture.
Yes! I finished my novel today!
It was an effort, I ripped off roughly 5,800 words in the last two days, but boy! was it worth it. I wanted to do it this weekend, and I did!
For many years I have been a person who started things and never finished them. Now it's the second time I that I actually finished a real, tangible, fullbodied novel. This time it has about 130,000 words, which would relate to about 500 pages in print, depending on how it's set.
The only thing still missing is a publisher, but I hope my agent is hard at word finding one. I know these things take time, so I'm trying to be patient. They have only been trying to market my series for about half a year. They also started at the top and are working their way down. Again, that takes time. However, if you feel like it, wish me luck. I can use it. :-)
But for today, it's celebration time! I finished my novel!
I'm still numb inside
On Sunday, I lost my writing partner. He decided that he had to stop writing altogether, for reasons I won't go into here. They make sense, at least partially, although I believe he shouldn't go to that extreme.
It hurts like hell. I ache for him, badly. I cried several times, and I probably will cry some more. I still think we did well together, and I hate losing that, as well. But the worst is seeing him throw away that talent.
I'll try to help him pick up his life. And I will never give up hope that he'll come back to writing when he feels everything else is right. The only way to look at this is forward. *sigh*
... and I'm bored. Really bored, and that hasn't happened for a long time.
I'm alone, and I don't even feel like writing or picking up a book or surfing the net or even playing a PC game. In fact, if it weren't so early, I'd probably go to bed. In reality I'll probably continue to pick away at translating my first novel from German to English. If only I wasn't feeling so ... blah.