Authoring and Other Ambiguities
I am writing a book. There, I've finally said it on the world wide web, so it is official and must be true. It's a novel, actually. Not the story of my life, although I'm realizing more and more how much life imitates art imitates life, so nuggets of my soul and story are stubbornly embedded in it. But a major influencer is Jane Austen, so it is set in Scarborough, England, in 1829, and includes characters who are very much entwined in each other's lives, for better or worse. And yes, there is a romantic thread, and yes, it is as conservative and modest as Austen. I am slowly letting family and friends read different drafts, because I need their feedback and perspectives to make it as great as it can be. May I be vulnerably honest? I really want it to be great - excellent, even - and have it published and make somebody-somewhere's top-10 list. I want it to be important and powerful and relatable and encouraging and mind-shifting and life-changing. I've written