So I’ve got a freakin’ manifesto in almost final-draft on my feelings about how being taught to jump right into the middle of the action in our manuscript openings doesn’t allow the reader to build a relationship with the characters the way the more leisurely paced 80s/90s romances did, and I was going to post that today.
But this morning I feel like I’ve run myself over with my own Rubicon and the wheels are spinning and they just keep shoving my head down in the mud. (And I can’t even get that first paragraph coherent, never mind a manifesto.)
So instead of being long-winded, I’m going to curl up on the couch with my iced-coffee and wish the music from “Cars the Movie” for PS2 would die.
It’s a notebook and pen kinda writing day.