Did you listen to them? Arro asked wildly. Did you . . . eat?
Soal hid her face on the pallet. Tears spilled onto the cloth, and she clutched herself, as if that would keep the memories from spilling out, too. A million memories rose at her throat like a word that wished to be spoken. A million memories of blue-lit voices, tender, flickering hands, and a vision of the home they–and she–had been severed from.
And in that instant, something cold came over her. She could not let Arro see these memories. She would not.
I paced the room, my phone pressed to my ear. My hands trembled, but I wasn’t crying–yet. I had just learned that I would have to revise my manuscript in four weeks–four–if I wanted to submit it to Pitch Wars.
Somehow, I had thought that I could take the extra month before mentees were announced to complete revisions. But no, my sheepish friend pointed out. If a mentor was interested, they would request a manuscript. If I was serious about the contest, I needed to have a cohesive manuscript. And I needed it now. Continue reading “Revising Soal: Lessons Learned”