I totally missed yesterday's post. I was at work from early in the morning until late at night with very little access to my computer.
I did, however, read all of Jandy Nelson's I'll Give You the Sun yesterday.
OHHHHHHH SO GOOD.
However, it was also heartbreaking. It touched on a lot of the things my own work, Into the Shining Sun, touched on. God, it even had a similar name. But I'll Give You The Sun said so many of the things I wanted to say, and it said them SO WELL.
I'll be honest, I kind of freaked out yesterday, when I wasn't just devouring the book. The feels.
But anyway. Once I'd gotten over that particular brand of story anxiety, I realized, no, there were still things I wanted to say, things that only I could say. And actually, I saw one path to telling them more clearly than ever. It'll mean killing pretty much ALL my babies. Changing genres, even. But, strangely, I feel exhilarated by the idea.
I don't know if I'm going to go that route. Other ideas may present themselves. I think I'm going to finish a first draft of my current work in progress before I go back and try to figure out how to fix Into the Shining Sun. We'll see how well I keep that promise to myself.
Meanwhile, once I've properly recovered, I'll review I'll Give You The Sun in a more coherent way than just OOOH THE FEELS.
I fly to Seattle on Thursday, to visit my friend, celebrate her 30th birthday, and enjoy the Northwest Tea Festival. I already have my book for the plane picked out: Andrew Smith's 100 Sideways Miles, which I've had for a while but been saving for this very trip.
I can't wait. Even though it feels kind of strange, not to be reading Winger on a flight to Seattle instead.