I was feeling pretty great about the first draft of my next novel. I had buckled up and reviewed the whole thing through. Now came the difficult part of showing the work to someone else. For this task, I recruited, for the second time, the assistance of my sister. She had helped me make Sweet Abigail a more cohesive story. She had pointed some obvious flaws and areas where the path led nowhere.
I knew she would be supportive, she would begin by saying I had done a good job of coming up with ideas, taking the time to write and sticking with my dream. I also knew she would be brutally honest, and that’s exactly what she was.
After my sister read it, we had our discussion call. We laugh, I jotted down her questions, the gaps that needed filling. And her feedback was clear: “there’s no way this is finished!”
Wow! What a blow…
My sister is one of the toughest critics I have. She has always been. I know I can reach out to her for the perspective I’m missing. When we were younger, she never shied away from critiquing myself and my style. Now, as adults, her sense of criticism has matured. Now there’s a clear appreciation for I am and do. Now her criticism is constructive.
With her questions and comments, she laid down in front of me an opportunity. To make the story better. To tell the whole story. The story that is still there.The first draft fulfilled its purpose. It was the bare bones. A step forward. A small dose of risk and vulnerability. Now I have to build the muscle, pump more blood into it, more life. Thanks sis!
Now comes the next fun part 😉