Autumn is the ideal time for writers. At least in the opinion of this struggling author. The mood is just right for inspiration. Even the mention of Halloween brings delightfully creepy images to mind, and other doleful delicacies. This September, however, finds me in a tangle of non-fiction. Hoping against hope to divine the correct alchemy to get creative writing published, I’ve been putting efforts toward my non-fiction tome. It’s not a fall book. It’s a quotidian book. Like all my work, it is built from scratch. Watching the word count at the bottom of the page is like trying to watch and hour hand move on a clock with continuous motion. I feel like I’ve said so much already, but the industry standard “book length” hasn’t yet been reached. Meanwhile, I’m itching, aching even, to write my usual gloomy autumnal fiction. How long is a book supposed to be? There’s no right answer to that, of course. A few...
Blog of a struggling writer.