I had written a few chapters of a book, and abandoned that book. Years later I tried to write another book, that one in first person and very introspective, and I had used the first chapter of the first book within the first chapter of the second book. That chapter, now years old, was my first submission to a local writers group called Casual Critique.
It was widely despised. One said she stopped reading after a few pages, while another said the chapter within the chapter might be salvageable. Ten years ago it seemed quite deep to me, while now I would agree with the group that the first-person parts are self-indulgent and tedious. The suggestion that I try to salvage the first book is interesting, because I do think there was a better story in my original book than the introspective and self-deprecating crap.
Now I must think about whether I will ever be a fiction writer at all. Given my current concerns perhaps I should write non-fiction. Or perhaps write fiction as a release from the real-world stress. Either way, I'm probably shelving the introspective angle. As one group member put it, "Leave that for your journal, not a novel."
The whole thing reminds me how exhausting spending an hour listening to people critiquing your work can be. And I feel that I should write a lengthy post about all the things I learned, and the way forward, but I'm exhausted.
I'm glad they trashed it though. That was way too unworkable and I can now just let it quietly die.
