I'm in a senior seminar this semester. We're all working on either fiction projects or poetry projects.
For those of you who have read my poetry, you've probably gathered that 1) I'm pretty good at free verse, and 2) anything not in free verse is not my cup of tea.
Now fiction . . . fiction is my cup of tea.
You could say that I've had a bit of experience writing fiction.
I self-published a pretty short book about two years ago, and most of the people who left reviews liked it.
This semester I'm aiming for a full-length novel.
Oh my giddy aunt, y'all.
You have no idea how hard this is.
Keep in mind, this isn't necessarily for enjoyment, though I'm sure I will enjoy it for the most part.
This is for a grade.
Mostly the credits.
But get this: there's a prospectus.
We've gotta outline it.
We've got to cover everything from beginning to end, no plot holes.
And we're likely going to get critiqued.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining -- I love critiques of my stories. Love them. It makes for a better, more coherent, more detailed story.
But gosh . . . it's hard.
But hard is good.