A long time ago I wrote a novel that I named Saving Iris. I had no clue what I was doing but I wrote it anyway. It was really bad. I’m pretty sure there was a plot and maybe a likable character or two but that wasn’t my only problem.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.
I forgot about it for a long time until one day I shared it with a writer’s group. Thankfully the opening was strong enough to receive an invite. Sadly, as you now know, the rest of it not so much.
I saw it as practice. A lesson of things to come, so to say. This practice novel taught me work ethic, how to handle criticism and what to do when you can’t shake a certain feeling.
Saving Iris soon became lost in my hard drive. She would sit…
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