I haven't cried while reading since "Where the Red Fern Grows" in elementary school, but "The Forest of Hands and Teeth" had me all sorts of teary. I read some reviews of "The Forest of Hands and Teeth" and realize not everyone enjoyed it, but I loved the writing, characters, plot, the whole sha-bang. After finishing the book and setting it on my nightstand, I curled up in bed and tried to sleep. Eyes puffy and headache coming on, all I could think was, I want to write like that. I want to move someone to tears and outright laughter. I want to take people away to another world so that they can't put the book down until they've reached the end. My next thought was, I have so much more work to do! And that's when the tears started again.
I laid there feeling all sorry for myself and as the first tear dripped down my nose, Pre jumped on my head.
She went to the side of the bed, aimed her little body, and jumped, landing with her sharp claws straight on my closed eye and forhead.
Cale thought it was hilarious. I didn't. But, reality check! Writing a novel isn't about writing, it's about rewriting. Yes, I have a ridiciulous amount of work still to do, but that's the deal I've gotten myself into.
So, thanks Pre for jumping on my head and making me stop feeling all lousy. Dogs are the best.
(As a side note, I realized today I have the habit of writing dialogue backwards. Usually I know how the conversation will end, so I write that first and then go from there. Is that weird? Hmm)
(And as another side note, I'm in the midst of putting together a crit group for YA fantasy- or something along those lines. I have two wonderful ladies who are interested and there's room for a couple more. If you're interested, let me know :)