Dear Reader,
What a perfect morning prepping for All Novel, All August. (Do we like that title? Maybe not.)
Word Raccoon and I arrived at the café only to discover they’d placed tables from the porch onto the lawn, something I’ve long hoped they would do on chilly mornings. I’d much rather retreat to the porch only after the day grows warm.
The tables were there for a noon concert, so I don’t know whether they’ll become a regular feature, but I did notice other outdoor tables tucked around the property that I may try in the future. WR says she’ll just drag tables anywhere she pleases, and she might try, but I will ask her to show some restraint. Alas, that is not her strong suit.
I settled in with a cold drink and a freshly printed manuscript: my neighbor’s prologue. Soon I was immersed, with WR perched on my shoulder, reading along.
My neighbor has voice.
That is something you cannot teach. That is what sets a writer apart.
As I’ve said before, his genre isn’t one I typically read, so I don’t know its conventions well enough to be the ideal reader. But I found myself genuinely invested in the story. Before I slipped the envelope with his marked pages into the holder beneath his mailbox, I wrote, I hope you will keep writing. Word Raccoon wanted to offer him a Coke Zero as well, saying it’s the best writing fuel ever, but I said no.
As for saying my neighbor should write more, I meant it.
Since I don’t have his permission to discuss his novel, that’s all I’ll say about it.
Reading someone else’s work is the perfect lead-in to reading your own. Now I’m eager to reacquaint myself with my story, to give myself the same encouragement and grace, to read it first with a reader’s ear.
There’s nothing quite like placing your work in trusted hands. But before that can happen, it has to pass through your own. And, if you’re me, Word Raccoon’s paws.
Read generously.
Keep going.
In other news, WR printed three of the four threads of her story to begin combing through.
She also bought a month’s (and then some) worth of writing snacks.
She has terrible, terrible taste, like a frat boy. 😂 But she knows what works while she’s writing. See that stack of protein bars in the back? Those will be her staples, along with plenty of fresh produce.
She even made a sign to commemorate the occasion.
(I’m writing this on July 31, but let’s call it August 1. If all goes according to plan, I’ll be writing a day ahead this month.)
Cheers to August, Dear Reader! I like to imagine that you’re creating what pleases you most. I hope you are.
Drema