I decided to blow the cyberdust off a manuscript I wrote a few years ago. Like many consultants, I was laid off after 9/11. I gave myself permission to write a book while I was looking for a job. I also gave myself six months to find a job. I did both in the allotted time.
I was afraid the manuscript would be so dreadful that the Delete key would be my friend. I printed the whole thing out and was shocked to see it ran 1200 pages, 335,000 words. Seems like it should be three books — or whacked by two-thirds to make it marketable. It’s the story of a group of women spanning 40 years. Nothing like Ya Ya Sisterhood.
So what do you think of the newly written opening paragraph?
For nearly as long as she could remember, Patricia had thought of herself as a “Patricia.” Unfortunately, no one else did. Her friends called her either Trisha or Trish, be everyone in her family called her “Sissy.” The second born and eldest girl, Patricia was “sister of,” not an individual. She could just have easily been called maid or babysitter or house cleaner.