It’s terribly presumptuous of me to natter on about the writing of fiction without exhibiting anything of my own.
All right, I shall. The work I have in mind is rather old, a short novel I wrote back in the early 1980s. At that time a number of influences came together to incite me to produce a Christian romance thriller, entitled Free Souls. Though I lost track of the typescript for a few years, recently I’ve laid hands on it again and I’ll be publishing it here for the first time.
But not in its original form. If I have any bona fides as an author at all, I’ll want my creations to make their debut in the world well-dressed and deporting themselves in the best possible manner. After all, I’ll be presenting a work of fiction I hope people will want to read, not asking them to examine a slice of my creative history. So I’ll be making corrections and edits and maybe adding a chapter or two, all to make the story better.
So now, having gotten your hopes up (yeah, right!), the first chapter of Free Souls will have to wait a little to make its opening bow. It’s nothing too earth-shattering . . . Just my current word processing program refusing to play nicely with my optical character recognition software.
(I begin to think it would be faster just to retype the whole thing.)