Alone Again.

I’m feeling utterly flat now that the novel edit is done and the first three chapters are printed and parcelled up. Tomorrow they wing their way to the metropolis. I just hope the agent bothers to read them instead of stopping at the synopsis, as the others have done. It would be nice to think that somebody has actually read a bit of it.

This isn’t merely a story about somebody taking a journey, you see. This is my journey, coalesced into a single short work of apparent fiction. The Lady is real, and now she’s gone back to the water. I hate partings.

So where do I go from here? I would quite like to write something else, but I can’t just make things up. Stories need to present themselves to be set down. Until something does, my fingers will have to remain idle.

Talking of stories, I find the response to L’Etranger on the other blog a bit strange. Most of the stories have had between thirty and forty page views, and most of those came within a few days of being posted. Helping Jennifer has had fifty one views, and The Thirteenth Tree eighty. L’Etranger was posted three weeks ago and has had just four views. Since nobody can know what it’s about until they’ve read it, I assume it has to be the title that’s putting people off. Oh well, enough said on that subject.