I've been carelessly collecting notes ever since I was given the assignment. Adding a little here and a little there, occasionally. Today, I wrote for only ten minutes, but then had to walk away because so much was rushing through my head. What I wrote would qualify as the opener, the pitch, the prologue, the introduction, the first page. It's a start.
I did come to realize that the struggle lies in the knowledge that my fiction is exactly that: Fiction, though I do use personal experiences. But writing them for my characters sort of makes it third person. My readers won't know what REALLY happened mixed in with what's fabricated. What's more, it's in third person, so it's more as if it happened to someone else.
In THE PROJECT, I'm feeling uncomfortably exposed. God help me. It's the only way.
If it will help, I took a year to write We are One and it is only 80 pages with lots of pictures. I think streaking down Central Avenue would give less exposure than writing the Project. You are in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteNow, there's a horrifying picture. *shudder* :-)
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