Congratulations, PC!

P-C, that's pretty darn awesome!

I still can't really believe it. And there are at least three other first-timers in there with me, including one person from my writing group!

Here's the intro from a story I'm working on. Feedback would be lovely!

__________________

I used to be a nice girl. Normal. Well, as normal as anyone is, really. I mean, it’s a subjective term, right?

But I digress.

My name is Liz. I used to be Lizzie. Lizzie led a quiet life, full of all the things normal people do. She had a family that drove her crazy sometimes, but whom she loved. A younger sister, Laura. She had an apartment, bills, a steady job she mostly liked. A fiancé. She liked horror and fantasy novels, bad action movies, yoga, and sex on Sunday mornings before making waffles. She made small donations to the ACLU and the ASPCA. She had two cats, Xander and Anya.

Lizzie was nice. Normal.

But that was before. I thought I was smart, savvy. I thought I knew about the atrocities perpetuated in this world. I thought I knew. I thought I was doing what I could to make the world a better place in my own small way.

I was a fool.

This was before what happened to Laura. Before the Goblin Market. Before. . . everything. I fell into the shit. No – I walked into it. For love. I had no idea.

I’m covered in shit now. And blood. And death. You can never go back from some things. Forget what the shrinks tell you. You. Can. Never. Go. Back.

I made my choices. They say you have to live with them. They’re wrong – you don’t.

I don’t have to live with them. I thought about it – just laying down and dying, letting myself be killed, doing it myself. It would be so easy. It’s the most alluring thing in the world. I came close. It’ll probably still happen.

I’ll die. Covered in the shit, the blood and the guilt, the memory of love and normal a faint taste in my mouth, like the lingering taste of apples and quinces, lemons and oranges, plump unpecked cherries,bloom-down-cheeked peaches, blackberries, apricots, strawberries. . .

I’m not normal anymore. And I’m not nice. I can’t be.

I’m Liz. Lizzie is dead.

And Liz probably will be soon, too.  

Strix, I like it, I like the pacing here. The narrator's tone prompts questions about who she is and how much we trust her take on events, but in a good way, because it feels like reading further will yield answers.

One question: how literal will the shit be? (I may be the freak reader who hears a term repeatedly in the intro and is waiting for the dung pile later in the story.)

I dropped in to announce a productivity update: I now have the first 4 chapters drafted of the piece I've been working on and I'm ready to move into the next part of the story.

hey ~t, you still have that Asimov's subscription?

I think I dropped it. Is it a good time to resubscribe?

In a couple months? I don't know the plan yet.

Excellent. I only dropped it because I feel like I have not enough time to read the piles of books and back issues of Smithsonian and whatnot I have lying around, I was conflicted about it even as I was doing it. And the last issue I got is still current, so I won't even miss anything...

Hi -- I'm approaching tall of you because I wanted your take on something.

As you may or may or may not know, my dad, who taught me to love books, and got me into fantasy and sci-fi, has either Alzheimer's or dementia.

I know you all have super-insane schedules and projects of your own, but -- like Sunil's birthday resolution, I want to write and publish a story or a novel before my dad is gone, either mentally or physically. I know that time might make this an impossibility, But I have to try.

I know the basics of writing; ass in chair, fingers on keyboard, but I was also looking for support. I can't afford a workshop, but I thought maybe between all of you, you would have some good tips and tricks from same.

I have this idea for either a short that would be the precursor for a novel, or a novel itself in my head. It's been roaming through my head in pre-dreaming and sleepless nights and brainstorming sections in my journal for a while now.

I think trying to publish a short story would be faster, but...this is why I'm asking all of you for advice. And maybe, if/when you have the time, for mentoring or beta'ing.

I know it's a big request, but my dad -- he's always thought I would write a book someday, and I want to put something in my hands and say "I wrote this, and people are reading it."

And also because there are all these stories in my head, and I want to finally let them out.

Any and all suggestions welcome -- I'm just here looking at my brainstorming journal and thinking, "I wish I had someone to talk with about this -- OH."

And all you can do is ask.

Thoughts?