[This blog post comes from the distant past of two weeks ago, when I wrote it but forgot to post it. My bad.]
I’m handing over my manuscript to my coworker on Monday. Fear aside, she isn’t the first person to read it.
That honor (aka: torture) went to my wonderful mother who read it as I wrote it. I don’t know what your first drafts look like, but it takes a lot of gumption, patience, and love to read someone’s draft as they work on it. Especially given that I wrote it between November and February.
That’s four months to read a single book. Yikes. That’s love.
Then there’s my roommate, who I handed the book to a few months ago (at least). He got to Chapter 33, stopped reading for a couple months, binge-read up to Chapter 60-something, and now he’s somewhere in the 70s (out of a total of 81).
He was reading it a couple days ago while I was playing Super Mario Brothers Wii with the same coworker who will be reading Nameless Queen soon. I looked over to him as he made a couple distressed sounds. I figured he was watching TV on his laptop or whatnot.
Nope. He was reading my book.
“What’s up?” I asked him.
“I’m mad sad glad and just, all of the emotions.”
“Did I get you? Do you have ALL THE FEELS??”
“A little bit, yeah.”
A couple quips back and forth about where he was in the book, and then he started complaining that I kept confusing the bayonet with the rifle (because the bayonet is just the blade, not the whole weapon, GAHH).
This was one of those good moments. Getting a reader to feel something, or even multiple things. It’s one of those moments where I feel like I did what I was trying to do.
What about you?
Ever had one of those moments where you just feel it? You feel validated for all your work or you feel good?