Or whether my story makes sense to anyone else.
Except, like the Mummy, the bastard just won't stay dead.
He came back with a vengeance that would make Imhotep himself proud.
Remember that sand storm scene?
That as about the scale of the force of the self doubt that hit me last week. It ground my writing to a complete halt.
Fact is, I get
I have five Main Characters, currently three stories (of which one remains unmentioned but vital), and hundreds of strings that have to remain firmly in my grasp until the end of the fourth (perhaps fifth) book.
It's so bad that I can't even put down a specific plan for what's going on. I have to leave myself general reminders.
Oh yes... I forgot to mention that the story has to make sense to someone with no concept of the back story that stretches back more than a few thousand years...
Not to mention....
I think you get the point and I'm winding myself up again. Suffice it to say that never once have I referred to the story as the Beast lightly.
Anyway... The realization also hit me that I had no idea. As in, I have no idea if my story even made any sense. I had spent so much time working on it that I lost any objectivity that I might have had.
So, I have officially started my search for crit partners... I have even e-mailed a few people who are looking as well. Still, I think that it will be most unfair to go looking elsewhere only when I have you guys.
Therefore, I ask: Any of you looking for a crit partner? Willing to step into my scary convoluted mind? If so, please contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org (mishagericke(AT)gmail(DOT)com).