Happy Friday, everyone! I thought I’d toss out another open thread for you to ask questions or toss in a comment. All writing and creativity and publishing and book-related (and possibly other, if I know anything about it or can find out about it) stuff is fair game.
I spent some time at a substack category tour (waves to anyone who was also there) and it was great to meet some new bookish types. Spring has sprung here, none too soon for my mood.
I had the oddest interaction yesterday while walking Izzy and Sally, the border collies, also known as the gorillas, which is long for girls. We were waiting behind a pillar on campus and a man in a group hung back to talk to me. Not only did he try to pet Sally despite my firm “not a good idea,” he tried to get Izzy to jump on him, even though I explained she’s a rescue and that’s not going to happen. Eventually, he wraps up this non-charming encounter, by declaring, “They’re a little fat, aren’t they?” Shocked, I blurted the first thing that came to mind, which was, “Good day, sir!” He looked extremely confused, but finally left. So welcome to my old-timey era.
(Sally throwing her own ball above.)
And now, over to you, and: good day! But I mean it. Feel free to toss in what you’re reading, too, if you like. I just finished inhaling Tessa Bailey’s latest, Hook, Line, and Sinker, and am probably on to The Atlas Six. Happy weekend, and may the sun shine wherever you are. Unless that would be an apocalyptic event.
We don’t need any of those.
I’m a numbers guy at heart, and I recently saw the canard “the first million words are practice.” And it reminded me of Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000 hours rule, which I think was specifically referring to deliberate practice, that is, practice with quick feedback. My question to you: what does deliberate practice look like for a writer, particularly one without a crit group?
I just finished A Northern Light, an older YA centered around the tragedy of Grace Brown, which inspired an American Tragedy. I picked it up on a whim as a used bookstore and enjoyed it.
I'm still indignant for the dogs' behalf. So rude.
So what do you do when you are stuck in the middle of your book?