Gratz to all the winners!
1. A big thanks goes out to Christine and Rebekka (and anyone I’m missing) for putting this together. This had to have been a lot of work.
2. Thanks to everyone who provided the prizes.
3. Thanks to everyone who participated.
I would love to see this wave of providing feedback on drafts continue past the event. I was fortunate enough to receive some really useful feedback both on my draft and directly. As a new author, it has been INVALUABLE. I’m actually using it to revise the 2 chapters I have up, and for the rest of my novel as I write it.
If you have any reservations about leaving feedback on drafts, DON’T. If you’re concerned about publicly posting something critical, just send it in a kindly worded private message. If you have something good to say, post it. You will make someone’s day.
For my fellow Drafters, remember, if you’re concerned about critical comments you receive on a draft, you can always note them, apply them, and post the draft again with any changes to remove them. But critical feedback, no matter how much it hurts, is only going to help you.
I really want to encourage everyone to take advantage of the draft phase, and make it a habit to leave comments on drafts. Don’t underestimate your power to have a positive impact (even with criticism). Inkshares provides a unique opportunity for all of us to help each other grow as writers. We should all take advantage of it as much as possible. Plus, I’d rather get ripped apart here first, rather than on Amazon or in media reviews if the book ever comes out.
Thanks again to everyone who participated and made this happen.
Rural Pennsylvania. Present.
I was hunched over the driver’s seat of my pickup truck, a pocket flashlight protruding from my lips as I carefully assembled a gift in the darkness. A small, metal tin rested on the faded upholstery as I meticulously collected a series of contents. Buttons, three or four pairs of old and mismatched earrings, refrigerator magnets, some coins, a roofing nail, a glittering silver necklace, two hair ties, and a children’s flip book. I picked out what bel. . .
Rural Pennsylvania. Present.
I was hunched over the driver’s seat of my pickup truck, a pocket flashlight protruding from my lips as I carefully assembled a gift in the darkness. A small, metal tin rested on the faded upholstery as I meticulously collected a series of contents. Buttons, three or four pairs of old and mismatched earrings, refrigerator magnets, some coins, a roofing nail, a glittering silver necklace, two hair ties, and a children’s flip book. I picked out what bel. . .