They hated to read.
Learning. Hello from, rainy, dreary Vermont. Inside our house, it’s warm and comfortable, which means that nobody wants to bring the dog out to do his business. That’s when it’s fun to be the mom and delegate.
I returned to Quill Point this afternoon, having not written in over a month. Sickness in the house kept me away, and then, when I could write again, I got scared about it. But if you know me, I’m not one to run from fear, so I plunged into the last chapter and got–nowhere. The thing is, I have to go back and add more storyline and connections into what I’ve written already, so when I get to the new part of the plot, it will flow well. It’s okay. I like reworking. And in the back of my mind I know that the editor will tear everything apart anyway.
My mom told me a good story yesterday. Someone she knows read Vinehart Farm. He told her he hates to read, but he couldn’t put the book down, and the next time he sees her he’ll pick up both Peace Cottage and Raising Evangeline. You may remember that this happened in August, when I got a call from the nice man who installed our garage door. He said he hated to read also, but when he and his wife went camping, he couldn’t put my book down. Now he has read all three.
I never wrote with male readers in mind. Never. And suddenly here they are, reading and enjoying the books I never thought would catch their eye. In fact, at book signings and craft fairs, I distinctly said, “Oh, it might not be for you, but your wife might like it.” Hmm. Guess I better stop saying that.
So the question for Quill Point is: How do I more deeply develop my male characters while still writing the book from Eva’s point of view? There’s some quantum leap waiting to happen in terms of my writing abilities–I feel it–and if it’s going to happen, it will happen in Quill Point. Because it’s book four and don’t you think it’s time I took a risk? I owe it to you all to stretch, so you can see progress. I can do this. I leave you with my first and last selfie ever.