Excellent feedback, Susan!

Susan roooooooocks.

Somehow reading it finally made sense of my writing contest experiences for me, too. I'd been so confused by getting positive feedback in non-contest contexts and mediocre scores that I was starting to wonder if all the positive feedback was just people trying to be nice. Monkey grooming. Never mind that some of the positive feedback was from people who didn't know me before they happened to read an excerpt I posted somewhere and then contacted me to invite me to join a critique group or tell me about a resource they thought might interest me. But now it hit me that there's a real pattern to my contest feedback, especially the recent stuff--it's, "Nice voice, strongly written, engaging chapter, but can you make there hero more aristocratic/lose some of the dark, sad bits/start the book AFTER they get home from Spain?" IOW, "As you're writing this now, it isn't really a Regency romance." My epiphany is realizing that A) they're right, and B) that's OK.

This came into my brain at 11:30 last night. I know not whence it may go or why, but, heck, I thought I'd share.

I was heading down to breakfast when I was stabbed in the back. As this was the sixth morning in row, I was beginning to get a mite peeved. I grabbed the cardboard dagger out of Sedona's hand.

"You keep this up, and someone's going to think you're strange," I told her.

She raised her chin and gave me her best tragic gaze. "I am doomed, you know. A fey spirit haunts me, and I can only follow where it leads, till my fate be writ in blood."

"Your fate is going to be writ in a switch taken to your back, if you're not careful. Scotty doesn't have my even disposition and good temper." She sighed mightily. "And you're too young to be Sarah Bernhardt. Or are we channelling Bette Davis this morning?"

"But mine is a tale fraught with woe! My curse is to offer the story of my fate to all passers-by, warning them against the dark path I now tread."

"Is this going to delay me getting to breakfast?"

Sedona turned her head and breathed deeply. "A tale so over-bourne with portent and lesson will hold. I smell sausage."

the brain, it is an odd place.

Glad you shared, connie, it's cute!

Seven Ways to Beat Writer's Block

Heh. Number 3 is the best.

(snerk)

Tep, I have a drabble theme suggestion, on a subject very near to my writerish heart at the moment: Trust.

I have JP Kinkaid using a very, very specific south of England expletive in R&RNF - because it's a very particular voice in my head, and because the original of JP used it, it just popped in there, as did much of his voice. When I realised I'd used it, I took it out; I doubt most American readers would have a clue why an exasperated fiftyish Londoner would snap "Gordon Bennet!" in exactly the same vocal rhythm as an Angeleno, for instance, might snap "SON of a BITCH!".

I just went and put it back. An editor can make me remove it again. But I'm leaving it for now. He said it all the time, and it makes me happy.

Meh.

I've seen that in various stories. Who is Gordon Bennett--assuming it's not the current politician--and why did he annoy people so much they made him into a curse?

connie, I think it was Gordon Bennett Junior the snap is about - father was a journalist, son was - I think - the guy who sent Stanley to Africa looking for Livingston.

Why either of the poor bastards should have become an expletive, I don't know. But I heard it from Londoners in his age group (he'd be 61 right now) all my life.

I suppose I could google...