I made my mom cry and I couldn't be happier!
I've been working on a story for a few weeks. A couple people at work read it and thought it was good. I sent it to a friend of mine who wrote me back the following:
"I truly am enjoying the story. I believe it's very publishable. There's a few pubs I know of who have YA lines. Keep writing!"
"I just wanted to tell you that your work in progress is better than many books I've paid for. I really enjoyed it and was sad when it ended."
And my favorite:
The world needs more M/M YA and this totally rocks. Don't be overwhelmed by the comments, most are merely suggestions or proofing, and the rest are me telling you when I really liked something.
You've got solid talent, and when you finish this, if you'd like to publish, I'll help you find a publisher and submit the story.
---
My mom asked that I send the story to her, as she wanted to see what I was writing. This morning she called and told me that parts made her laugh and other parts made her cry.
I couldn't be happier.
= new reply since forum marked as read
Good for you.........and for your mom. It is so validating when your parents like your work.
Congrats, and keep writing!
.
.
.
... and papier mache -- with with some pretty impressive, um... special effects.
.
I won every bar contest I ever entered... until I got here to Tucson, where I
didn't even place. I stopped making them.
.
BUT... it had inspired the first short story I ever got published. I got stoned in
a bar's parking lot, went inside, sat down at the bar and got a drink... and
turned to see that I was sitting next to a 7-foot penis.
.
We had a great conversation about my sex life (it was simply a metaphor for
my sex life at the time -- fairly hedonistic and fun). At the end of our talk,
I got distracted by something and when I looked back, it had turned into a
beautiful woman who introduced herself -- "My name is Elizabeth Doe... Libby
to my friends". (Libby Doe)
.
I was so proud that I had gotten published that I showed it to MiddleFingerMomMom.
.
She read about a page of it, set it down on the arm of her chair and said, "I'll
read this later, dear."
.
.
5-to-1 she never did.
.
.
.