Wednesday night arrived and so did my turn for having my work critiqued. I'd put this night off since June--it was originally scheduled on a night when I needed to be in Michigan. But there it was, staring me in the face. I went back and reread my material, wondering how I thought about it. Was it any good? Could I identify where it needed work? And did I care?
That last question worried me. I vacillate between feeling gung-ho and indifferent about writing. Probably because I'm finding so little time to write these days. And if I have so little time, how am I supposed to practice the craft?
What I found out Wednesday night is this: the chapter I had revised the most--the one I wrote, rewrote, tinkered with and teased because I was reading it a Sinclair's National Day on Writing last year--is the chapter my group LOVED. And we all know what that means--with revision, my writing probably isn't all that bad.
So, the challenge is on. To find the time to tweak and massage each chapter, one by one or however it works--depending on the day, probably--until each one is worthy of my writing group's love. It's a tall task, but I'm willing to try. Wish me luck.