Walking with my dog through fields by my house, the grass is toasted light brown. It snaps and rustles under my sneakers, reminding me of sunburned Australia, (without the poisonous snakes). My dog runs ahead, seeking shade from the hot sun, while a squirrels drags itself up a tree, as sluggish as the mouse-like voles the dog has been pouncing on in our yard. Water in one pond has dried up. Stinky mud is all that is left in another – we are in ’severe drought’ according to the Department of Agriculture.
|Photo: Boston Globe|
My book manuscript too, is in need of some kind of rain. On my sixth draft (or is it ten?) I’m reworking the beginning and ending, yet again. Each time I scan through the chapters, I want to rip the whole thing up and start over. There are so many ways I could tell this story.
A few weeks ago, just when the how-should-I-tell-this-story-dilemna made me want to throw in the towel, I received an email. “In celebration of our 200th week of publishing, the editors at Narratively have put together a list of our 20 best stories ever…”
They picked my essay, about the Nazi who saved my mother, as their #4! (Click here to see the 20 stories)
I should keep going then. I must. The essay was based on an excerpt of my manuscript re-crafted for my writing class last year. I have a few more ready to go from Spring semester, but am holding off. I need to finish the darn book first.
Today it is raining. Next week the grass will be green again. I’m sure of it.