(A short story by Irene B.) “T-minus three hours!” Popped up Denise’s text, breaking my once chill morning of scrolling. That was how much time I had before I was supposed to bake my very first loaf of sourdough bread. This is what I get for trying to support a friend… a mate. This is what I get for greedily eating every piece and version of the delicious offering my mate, Krissy, makes. Now here’s me, enrolled in a five-plus-hour class. I blame my stomach. Then Denise adds, all casual and shit. “Who’s excited to make bread?” Immediately my stomach dropped, and a loud “fuck” slipped past my lips, but I hearted her comment. Nikki: “Wait, so we’re starting…
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How To Wait for Beta Reader Feedback Like A Lunatic
I would like to begin by saying: I bloody love my beta readers! I love them deeply, respectfully, and with tons of gratitude sprinkles, smothered in whipped cream, strawberry syrup, and more sprinkles on top. And yet, I am a monster. Not only did I ask them, but I chose them specifically for their brilliance. They’re a bunch of well-rounded babes. Frequent international travelers, educated, fun-loving, solid readers, deep-thinkers… all the things. And they are reading my paper-baby for the grand total of free-99. And why? Because I am both on and driving the struggle bus in this newbie author process — aka I’m poor. They’re doing it on the…
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The Truth About Finishing Your Project After 40
Waaay after 40, and it wasn’t quick, I’ll tell you that for nothing. So let’s get that out of the way because not even I can start faking that I’m this disciplined creative woodland fairy type, who wakes up at 5 a.m. with a green juice in hand, and joy all over my face as I look over my easily completable checklist. Hell no. Half the time I wake up mad that my bed isn’t steps from a sunny beach, and even madder at my mum for having the nerve to raise me with stupid morals instead of the will to just go ahead and do something strange for a…
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What Happens When You Avoid the Feedback You Need
I don’t even have all the feedback yet. Just little tidbits. A few comments dropped casually over WhatsApp on the opening pages. A clarification here. A question there. A pause. A “Wait, what did you mean by…?” Enough to confirm a few things I was already side-eyeing, eye-rolling, and unhinged staring.Enough to make me feel a new kind of fear I didn’t even know about. Last week I wrote about sending my paper-baby, virgin novel, Forget The Fairytale, to my beta readers. Letting go. Resisting the urge to tweak my work to death, even though I didn’t have one more logical thing to give it. Giving it to other, yet trusted people and…
