Share and Share Alike


Today my manuscript took the invisible ride to CreateSpace.  There is an actual human taking a look at it.  They call it: Review.  It is a nail biting, constant email checking, process and I feel exposed.  There is a live person poking and peeking around in my book.  I picture her as a pimple faced college grad, munching on Cheetos, and still wearing braces.  I want her to be my friend, like my book, and say something special, but all I get from her is this response:  “Files are checked within 48 hours to ensure your setup information is correct and your files are printable. You will be e-mailed the result once your review is complete.” So alas, I must wait.

In a melancholy mood, I decided to read my first page one last time, for old time sake.  I must have read this page at least 100 times and hopefully it sings.  Then I thought… I bet all writers feel the same way as I do about their first page and maybe, just maybe, they may like to share.

Here are the rules:

  1. Be nice.  Everyone is proud of their first page and saying mean things accomplishes nothing.
  2. Keep the posting to fewer than 600 words.  Don’t post a full chapter…that is not nice either.
  3. Do post the title of your book title, date of publication (or projected date) and the author name.

So share and share alike…I’ll go first, to get us started.

Categories: Self-Publishing | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

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One thought on “Share and Share Alike

  1. this I know – Sarah’s Confession
    Publication June 29, 2012
    Reba Ponder Weiss

    The morning light burst through the branches of the old pecan tree and found its way to an elegant two story sunroom shaped like a birdcage. Multifaceted window panes collected the golden rays from every direction and transformed them into toasty warmth. Inside, a mother and three grown daughters nestled around an old farm table, hand hewn from local Alabama pine and passed down through six generations. The women were dressed in a wide range of pajamas: an expensive V-neck knee-length gown made of silk, to faded flannel pajamas dotted with pink happy faces. Each woman held a steaming cup of coffee close to her lips, poised to kiss the edge and take a hot little sip. They drank silently, collecting their thoughts, trying to wake up.
    Sarah peeked over the rim of her cup and asked nonchalantly, “Momma, do you realize your hands are shaking?”
    Her sisters glared at her.
    “Yes Sarah, I’ve noticed it,” Nola responded in a soft southern drawl, as she put down her cup and folded her hands to still them.
    Elizabeth, the eldest sister, squeezed her mother’s wrist lovingly and said, “Oh Momma, Sarah doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It could just be nerves.” She gave her younger sister, Sarah, another stern look, and then glanced at her own hands.
    Elizabeth knew it wasn’t her mother’s nerves. She knew what it was. That’s how Grandma started out—just a little shaking in her hands before full blown Parkinson’s ravaged her body. In two short years it had reduced her to a jerking puppet who couldn’t even comb her hair much less dress herself. The disease ran in their family, but none of the girls would ever say that out loud, not even Sarah.
    Sarah was defensive. “Elizabeth, don’t look at me like that! I was just making small talk while waiting for Tarah to start her important, five o’clock, in the morning, meeting.” Sarah looked to her twin sister, Tarah, for help.
    Tarah ignored her and pulled her comprehensive Daily Task List out of a massive Wedding Planner. Actually, to call it just a Wedding Planner was an insult. It was a masterpiece filled with grand schemes, finishing touches, and minuscule details. It was the finest plan she’d ever created, even if she did say so herself. It made her feel good just to touch it. It was her color-tabbed security blanket, assuring every detail for her son’s wedding was under her strict control. Well, almost every detail. Tarah couldn’t control the weather, and travel to Jasper and Leigh’s wedding was turning out to be a real thorn in her side.
    Sure, it would be a beautiful, enormous holiday winter wedding with bright twinkling lights and a festive atmosphere, but the freezing rain predicted for the end of the week could quickly turn everything into a disaster. The bride’s family members that were driving and flying from New York to Alabama over the next couple of days could be dealing with canceled flights and closed roads. God forbid the weather became worse and people were unable to attend. Tarah paused, brushed the unthinkable scenario from her mind, and whispered a quick prayer for safe travel.
    “Lord, you know that would just push me over the deep end.” Tarah thought, and wrote in the margin of the paper: 1. Cancel outdoor propane heaters, back deck impossible, 2. Find solution for ten extra guests.
    She took a sip of her warm, creamy coffee and for the first time, noticed her mother and two sisters staring straight at her, in silence.

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