I have just spent a weekend of romance, just me and fifty women. I was the only man.
Yes, I was awake. Yes, this really happened.
I attended this, at the behest of my mentor, Lisa. She told me I had desperate need to go to this, to take part, to absorb it all, and she was right. I’ve been unable to revise my completed first drafts (the problems are too HUGE — and I didn’t know what they were, just that they were HUGE), only able to go and create another first draft…and the most recent one was going all drifty, just as the other two had. No clue how to stop it from following them on their rambling, unexciting ways.
And now I have. Debra Dixon is my hero. Lisa is up there, too, for dragging me to the workshop. And Shannon, for enduring a weekend of solitary confinement while I was off gallivanting with 50 strange women.
I go now, to eat and create the GMC and storyboard that will make my first drafts mutate into second drafts.
Dare I envision a final draft? I dare.
Crossposted from Epinephrine & Sophistry