Maybe I won’t fail my self-imposed short story challenge of one story per month after all. At least, not in the first month. Taking part in NaNoWriMo will probably automatically fail me for the month of November, but I’m okay with that. Writing a novel probably counts even more, even if it’s not edited and polished.
Hopefully my test readers will adore it and the sixth draft will use substantially less red ink. I’m getting so giddy it’s impossible to contain the “It’s good enough” part of me. I love the new beginning of the story. I scrapped the first paragraph of the story and I think extending the introduction did wonders. I added some extra gore. Everyone loves gore.
I am so stoked over the cover art, still. I can’t wait to show off the story that goes with it.
My Neovella aspirations have stalled a bit. My partners in crime seem to have lost interest in Bobby the Incontinent Space Cadet. I must either slap them or find a way to make it public. I made an open story called Buster the Effeminate Cucumber Farmer, and it rocks. My cowriters are twisted geniuses, and I love it.
Okay, off to a reviewing event. I get to chew on some surrealism and anarchy.