i shared my latest novella (not yet published) with three chosen readers, two of whom are authors, no nonsense types whom i felt would give it an honest appraisal. i got a call from the only one who finished and held my breath…turns out they liked it! they liked the rhythm and lyricism of the writing. the setting was clear. they cared about the protagonist and her friends. they found the character development to be solid. the plot kept them interested and the end left them wanting more. one of the areas i could work on, they suggested, is by limiting the time i spend in the headspace of my protagonist. they found these extended daydreams much less interesting and wanted me to get back to the storyline. i am grateful for this critique! with a little luck i should have my 6th title out on goodreads before the year ends. here is the link to my author page if you are interested: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7276703.Katya_Mills
morning coffee and oatmeal, and the cool autumn air seeping through the screen to wake you up. today i will be out of the house from 8am-9pm. i have been sleeping well with the cool nights though my cats wake me up frequently but i’m used to it. my novella is in pretty good shape and hoping to send it out soon to some betas for a test read before i complete the next and possibly final draft. now that i have published 5 works under my name, i learned to stop forecasting the finishing, it almost always takes longer than i expected. the new novella has ZERO fantasy elements in it, as its grounded in turn of the century (millenium) action, circa 1999. this seems to be the time and place i gravitate towards. if i am ever to be known as an American author by a great many people, i can only hope they will appreciate my reflections of this era.
There may be hope for me, I thought, rolling the smoke between my fingers. How different everything felt. The box, the stem, the lighter, the cig. I could sense the tobacco leaf inside the paper. Crunchy, resilient, it bounced back when you pressed it. I set fire to it and watched it burn and glow. I felt the smoke hit the lungs and exhaled at the top of my breath, I can breathe. Maybe I will last, after all, I thought, relaxing and getting used to myself again, taking drags. Aden looked worried, huh, I suppose they all did. I wish I could tell him…I still see things that turn me on. The barber shop cylinders have gone dark, the neon lights are lit, the end of the night far away, the dance floor naked and ugly without a dance. I paid the check and smiled.