Monday, June 22, 2009

Comments, comments, and more comments please.

One would think that being critiqued would eventually become like an old hat, worn, faded, and familiar. I have been writing for over a decade and a half, and the hat hasn't even gotten dust on it. I still release each chapter, book, or snipet of writing with a eager heart and wait just as tensely for feedback as I did the first day I pushed my first fledgling from the nest. Even now, an old authoress (over the big 30), I still feel like a school girl when I get a nice review.

Now, I don't mean the shy kind, knee-high bobby socks, hair in pigtails, and bangs in the eyes sedately waiting in the corner. I am referring to the giggly kind with bouncy blond hair that laugh at everything and scream while jumping up and down clutching their fellow gigglers at the slightest announcement of something good. Yeah, I feel a little bit like them.

When one of the respected readers that I had asked to comment on Living Sacrifice told me that she "loved" my book, I wanted to jump up and down and scream right in the middle of the auditorium at church. Of course, I squashed the impulse. However, that giggly blond is still in there somewhere doing a happy dance at the fact that someone I respect really likes my book.

So, if you someday happen upon a usually dignified-looking woman, over 30, doing a happy dance off in some corner when she thinks she is alone, it is probably me. It isn't likely, though. I don't even do it in front of my hubby. Only my toddler son, my two dogs, and the kitchen appliances truly know what a nut case I still am. Some parts of us never really die, not that I ever was a giggly sort, really. However, I was a bit of a ham.

- Rachel Rossano

Monday, June 1, 2009

Flit, float, flutter

Whoa! It has been over a month since I reflected on something on this blog. Scary how time flies. I can barely keep my fingers wrapped around the steeringwheel as it roars along, carrying me with it. It seems like only yesterday I was pregnant and expectantly looking forward to my first baby. Now my baby is a year and a half old and we are praying for another one. The same goes for stories. As I look back over all the novels I have completed, I am amazed as how much time as passed. It seems like only yesterday I was agonizing over where to go in Cecily, about ready to throw Jayne out the window, venting my frustrations with Darius, and thoroughly enjoying torturing Seth. Yes, I tend to torture my characters.

At the moment, though, I am torturing myself. It is a common occurance. I have written a chapter in Wren and I am not sure it works. Sometimes I am just worrying for no good reason. Sometimes I am onto something and there really is something wrong. Either way, it doesn't do me much good worrying about it. That is why I have great readers. It there is something wrong, they will let me know. I am so thankful for their help for that exact reason. If I need to fix something they let me know. If I am just being a ninny, they let me know. They don't actually call me a ninny, but they encourage me to go on. Because of them, I know someone is listening. That by itself is reason enough to go on. :)