Reading My Own Words

…been reading the old post-edit foley of my upcoming book, They Came in Peace…it’s weird, I put it down so long ago after we edited it, me and my editor, that I’d really forgotten about the forest and the trees.

Sitting here during some downtime reading this story is weirdly dissociative: I remember writing this, I remember the broad strokes and “spoilers” of the story…but this feels like a book I bought because the irritatingly short synopsis and opening pages I flipped through piqued my curiosity; it feels like I’m reading someone else’s words.  I don’t mean that in any kind of nonsense impostor syndrome sort of way; maybe it’s because this story is so different from anything else I’ve ever tried to write.

But as much as the words are mine, they read like someone else’s, to my eyes’ inner ear; (my 3rd person omniscient narrator sounds like Sir Anthony Hopkins, you?) someone more educated, smarter, and wiser than I see myself.

Weird.

TL/DR: Get yourselves a good team of editors, kids!  If they can make MY writing look good, imagine how word good they can you!

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