The other day I started a fifth draft on Tonight He Comes, a Horror short story I wrote.  I hadn’t even finished the fourth draft and here I was doing a fifth.

I reach a page when it hits me; I might be one of THOSE writers.  The ones who are never satisfied.  The ones who work and rework, content in the act of creation rather than the risk.

So what I did is I printed the story up and gave it to the family to thumb through.  Which they did over at our semi-local Perkins.  It went Mom, Dad, and then Todd.  An orange pencil was used to note corrections (with the occasional black pen filling in.)

In the end, they liked the story, but it had problems here and there through the bulk of it.  No shock.  Grammar, misspellings (their for there and here for hear ARGH!) and the occasional narrative flow problems.  They agreed there was a problem mid-way through, but what they weren’t quite sure of.

Once I’ve finished here, I plan to work on what they’ve given me.  Weed out the errors we caught, clarify in places, then give it to ’em again to see what that problem in the middle is.

My hope is to have this puppy sent off to Magazine X by the weekend, Monday at the latest.  Do I think it will sell?  I like it… but no.  Be nice for the first one I send out to sell at the first place I send it to, but that’s not going to happen.

I’ll let you know when it goes out and how it does.

(Brother Todd, incidentally, has helped the most so far.  They all have helped a great deal, don’t get me wrong.  It’s just getting story help from the guy you jokingly refer to as illiterate sort of sticks out…)


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