In it's infancy, my book is a very rough 62 pages of feelings and conversations. I have just begun to transcribe the handwritten words from a composition notebook I've been carrying with me constantly for the past four months.
It is, without a doubt, the most difficult artistic task I've ever undertaken.
Introductions are difficult.
I'm often too verbose.
I use too much foreshadowing.
Sometimes I move too quickly, skipping large chunks of my story and forcing myself to backtrack or cut and paste myself into maddening circles.
I am having difficulty weaving my story in such a way that the reader journeys with me: feeling the same excitement and growing disappointment, the same abandonment and then reckless abandon... the hurt and the resilience. I want them to understand the changes I have undergone.
I'm not even sure I understand the changes.
I am grasping to hang on to them... gripping with both hands.
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