Not to me-- my birthday was four days ago and observed with a pedicure, a book-shopping spree, and a family outing to our small-town country fair-- but to The Owl Bearer. This story was born one year ago today, when all the elements I mentioned in yesterday's post came together enough to create Willa, who visited my mind as I was trying to fall asleep and shared some tantalizing glimpses of her story. And now here we are, one year later, with the first draft sitting at 57,000 words and projected to be finished by the end of next month.
I vowed when I began this book that it would take me no longer than two years to write it. That probably doesn't sound very impressive, but remember I diddled around with Eleven Names for so many years, learning all my lessons and making all my mistakes by writing and rewriting the same damn book. I'm not doing that this time. Whatever the book is on June 26, 2013 is the best book I am capable of writing right now. And I will submit that book, and let the world make of it what they will.
Happy birthday, story. It's been a good year with you in my head, and I look forward to a good year revising.
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