It was all going so well (too well?) with the WIP. There I was, chugging along to the 20,000 mark, when my second (and final) tutorial on my writing course came along to put the mockers on what I have done so far. (Okay, I exaggerate, but we writers have fragile egos!)
Clearly all advice is subjective, but since I sought – and paid – for professional help, it would be stupid to disregard what was given, especially when a number of the tutor’s points do ring a bell. But as a result, the novel I thought was up together and on its way, is suddenly adrift, and so am I. Even taking out my writerly angst on a golf ball turned out to be pretty inadequate as a coping strategy, but in a surprising turn of events, the phone rang shortly after the bad golf trip and a very nice lady from Frome relayed the news that I am the winner of the local writers’ prize in the Frome Festival Short Story Competition.
Many thanks to the good judges of Frome for supplying a much needed silver lining, and what a pity the prize-winners’ lunch is the weekend we’re on holiday in Scotland. (A moment of glory certainly wouldn’t have gone amiss right now!)
Instead, here’s a photo of Frome which I visited for the first time last year. It’s a very pretty place, quaint but lively, and well worth a visit. I forgot to take my camera with me that day, so this pic is by Ross Websdale on Flickr.