Recently, I let someone else read my entire novel. If you’d asked me six months ago who that honor would belong to, I wouldn’t have said this, but maybe it was for the best.
I’m not a writer who is eager to share her work. Up until a couple of years ago, I didn’t really share the fact that there was work. While I also do other artsy things, writing is a very private thing for me. It’s not because I’m writing about anything personal, but because more so than any other art I produce, my writing gives you a glimpse into my head. It doesn’t hurt if you don’t like a color I’ve used on a canvas, or if this font doesn’t strike your fancy. But that character came from my brain. I can see them like no one else ever will. They’ve probably been simmering in my mind for several years by the time you know they exist.
So if I’m going to share my work, it’s going to be in a calm, quiet room, with comfortable seating, some cozy blankets, and I’m going to explain to you that you must be a very important person for me to let myself be so vulnerable. I’ll probably print you a certificate that declares that you are the chosen one, just in case you’d like to frame it.
Okay, I’m exaggerating, but you get my point. Basically, I assumed it would be my husband or I’d make my best friends draw straws or get into the ring and fight each other for it.
I didn’t think the first person I’d let read my novel would involve me sending it on a whim to a person I met at a conference. This lovely person lives near Asheville, which you may know had some severe flooding from a hurricane a little while back. She asked if she could read my novel as a distraction and how on earth could I say no to that? So I sent it, assuming it probably wouldn’t be read. (And I was fine with that, because see the above about vulnerability)
As a writer, I’m happy to say that the feedback was really good. Are there changes I need to make? Oh, of course, but I already knew that. (See: Folder of papers next to me) I told myself that people only thought my writing was good because they hadn’t seen the whole thing, because I had cherry picked ten or twenty pages and that’s why they thought it was good. But this person saw my mess and still declared it good.
I’m also really honored that this person actually took the time to read the whole thing and provide me feedback. I know what an effort that is, and I do greatly appreciate it.
But I guess, now, I’ve hit that milestone. Someone has read the novel. So now I need to get back to work, do the edits, and then, maybe … let more people see the novel? Query it?
Maybe this book is a real thing after all.