heh

Ugh. I can't write in anyone's voice but mine. I'm going into the second chapter of my children's/middle schooler book about Sam the bat.

Can only write well as a narrative. Fiction is kicking my ass.

Try imagining that you *are* Sam, Allyson.

Plus, not for nothing, most authors have a particular voice, and no matter what character they create, that voice is going to come through. Sam is part of you, in a way, because he's filtered through your head, your experiences, your emotions.

Also, don't sweat it now. Just keep writing.

I want to write a shelf space drabble, but I'm thinking ranting about my kitchen cabinets probably isn't going to be too interesting.

Allyson, maybe try writing in 3rd person but through Sam's perspective, as if the narrator were trying to ventriloquize Sam's voice.

It's just not working out for me, Burrell. I butchered the first chapter making the effort. I can't make my head switch over.

I'm just doing the narrative. It will sell, or it won't sell. But I'll finish it the way I know how, and try and deal with the fact that it isn't the quality it could be if only I could write it correctly. I know how that sounds, like I'm being defiant to my own detriment.

I also have a writing partner, now. It's working out nicely.

Allyson, essentially you're telling a story to your nephew, and to any other kids who may be reading the story, or having it read to them. It doesn't have to be Sam's voice. You're the storyteller. Your voice is fine.

Quality has nothing to do with POV, it has to do with the story. And you tell wonderful stories. So please stop doubting your own voice and just tell the story.

I'm glad you have a writing partner, if that's helping you.

Just had a really good story meeting, want to go home and write so badly I can taste it. But, need to do more work. A few more hours. Just a few more.

Oh Allyson, it was only a suggestion, if it doesn't work for you don't stress yourself trying to do it. I have a terrible time trying to write in first person unless I'm actually writing about myself.

Shelf Space

The new shelves are measured, they're dusted and neat.
They're measured in inches, they're measured in feet.
The movers have measured in boxes and pounds,
But books still pile up in undignified mounds.
They capture the table, they conquer the floor.
They have to be shifted to open the door.
From now on I'll be good, I'll learn to be tough.
A room lined with tall shelves is surely enough.
One birthday, two yard sales, three local book fairs
The books climb off the shelves and head for the stairs.
The other thing that's certain is curious looks,
Followed each time by: "Have you read all these books?"

Heheh. That's good, Ginger. Books are kind of like crab grass, invasive and hard to get rid of.