Currently 16 of the 25 query letters I've sent out are on the loose, eight have garnered rejections, and one has resulted in a request for a partial. I'll be waiting a bit longer before sending out another wave and until I do the synopsis can fester to its cold, dark, heart's content.
Bound wasn't getting anywhere. I could not get a handle on it. I realized that I'd done too much set up work for it. I'm a pantser, not a planner, and all the world-building I did used up my energy.
It got one last read over before I took it out behind the hard drive and put it out of my misery. Some of the ideas will go into my latest WIP, Harvest.
Here's a wee taste:
She slipped into bed and stared up at the plain ceiling. The presence was still there, sliding around the back of her neck to her throat, threatening to choke her.
I had the disappointment of reading Mary Poppins last week. While it had some good scenes, and some good ideas like how the infant twins could talk to the birds, and how Mary Poppins understood and was loved by animals, she came across as a horrid, cold, bitch most of the time. Something wonderful would happen and as soon as it was over she would disavow all knowledge of it and as much as call her young charges liars.
She sniffed derisively a good lot of the time. It's a fine description, but it was overused to the point I wondered if she was a cokehead.
All that aside Pamela Lyndon Travers was a successful published author of several books, had a movie made out of Mary Poppins, and lived a good, long life.
Good on her.
Two sentences from Mary Poppins, P.L. Travers, (Harcourt, 1997)
" 'What?' said John and Barbara together in very surprised voices. 'Really? You mean they understood the Starling and the Wind and --'
'And what the trees say and the language of the sunlight and stars--of course they did. Once,' said Mary Poppins."
Thanks for coming by and having a read. I appreciate it.
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