Rewrites. My beta readers are coming back with their critiques. They're all very good, but now I'm finding it hard to breathe. Revisions, rewriting, reading a book yet again. You start to hate your own work when you've read it so many times. I'm not there with Sliced yet, but I'm sure it's coming soon. I just want one rewrite then I want to submit it.
I think it's good, but it needs some work. I think I'll just post some of it here. Right now. Total spontaneous idea. Tell me what you think. Or don't. :)
One morning when I was six-years-old, I woke up and found my mom’s telescope leaning against the wall. I remember looking around to see if I was in the right room because my mother never let me touch the thing. I climbed out of bed, walked over to it and stared for a moment. It seemed so big to me at the time, and gleamed shiny silver. I reached out and touched it—just with my index finger. I was afraid at any moment my mom would burst in and yell at me for touching her precious conduit to the stars. Nothing happened so I stroked it with my hand as if it were a kitten. Smooth and cold, I liked how it felt under my skin. My mom looked through it every night. If I asked nice and she was in a good mood, which was almost never, she’d let me, too.
I wondering again why my mom’s most prized possession was leaning against my bedroom wall. Then I saw the box. On my desk. It was my pre-school pencil box, pink with different colored flowers and Hello Kitty. I was afraid to open it, as if something horrible would jump out. I caressed the telescope again then decided nothing scary could probably fit in a Hello Kitty pencil box, so I opened it. There wasn’t much inside—her sparkly pink costume jewelry I thought was so beautiful back then, a few pictures of her and me. I don’t think I’d remember what she looked like without those pictures. I often considered burning them in effigy. The box held a letter, too. It said, Sorry, Sydney, but mommy isn’t happy. She has to go find joy. When I find it, I’ll be back. She didn’t sign it, there was no I love you, she. didn’t even draw a heart, or add any xo’s. And she never came back—which means maybe she never ‘found joy’ which is the only gratification I get from her abandonment—and of course the telescope, which took me exactly four years to the day to pick up and use.
Random Pandora Song: Break Even by The Script
Netflix of the week: Gray's Anatomy Season Seven. I just watched a musical episode. I love when shows do that.
Quote of the week: I've been thinking a lot about relationships lately, so I'm going with this one “How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being." ~ Oscar Wilde