It's a misery peculiar to would-be writers. Your theme is good, as are your sentences. Your characters are so ruddy with life they practically need birth certificates. The plot you've mapped out for them is grand, simple and gripping. You've done your research, gathering the facts; historical, social, climatic culinary, that will give your story its feel of authenticity. The dialogue zips along, crackling with tension. The descriptions burst with color, contrast and telling detail. Really, your story can only be great. But it all adds up to nothing. In spite the obvious, shining promise of it, there comes a moment when you realize that the whisper that has been pestering you all along from the back of your mind is speaking the flat, awful truth: IT WON'T WORK. An element is missing, that spark that brings to life in a real story, regardless of whether the history or the food is right. Your story is emotionally dead, that's the crux of it. The discovery is something soul-destroying, I tell you. It leaves you with an aching hunger. - Yann Martel
That looks like a fire hazard to me, with those dried leaves and matches. When people threw stones, the photogapher should have built a fire pit with them first.
"Embarrassment tells us that we are in the presence of excess." Allen Ginsberg "If you had perfect knowledge, 'it' would not be random, right ?" Heather Kelley
You can't change someone period. They have to change themselves. But yeah, they have to see it to change it...
I don't want to belong to a club which would accept someone like me as a member. (Groucho Marx, Woody Allen and someone else too)
