I’ve been working on a novel for a while now.
Actually, what I’ve been doing is wrestling with a novel.
Last month, I sat and thought about what the novel needed and what I needed and how we could stop the wrestling and move forward.
The answer I came up with was that I had to claim this story.
And claiming it meant that I had to let a few trusted friends read it.
The only problem was that there wasn’t (even after months and months and months of work) anything all that coherent to show.
I decided that I would do a lot of intensive sessions and try to get 50 decent, readable pages. And once I had those pages, I had to put them in other (gulp) hands.
Six friends read for me.
And by reading, they made the story and the characters and the world they inhabit real to me.
I have to tell the story now.
Those friends need to know what happens next.
It is good to be reminded that I am not just telling a story; I am telling a story to someone, to people I love.

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