I love reading The Tale of Telsharu.
Is this weird? I’ve heard of fellow authors who cannot look at their works, once they are published. More often, I’ve heard of actors who won’t watch their own movies, and musicians who won’t listen to their own music. But the principle seems to be the same.
Perhaps it’s vain to admit, but I love reading my work. Not all of them. Many of my old stories are utterly pathetic, absurdly trite, and nearly intolerable. But some are worth at least the paper they’re printed on. And as for Telsharu…
Here’s the thing. I wrote a story that I enjoy. Isn’t the first audience yourself? I’ve always written with that principle in mind. I don’t write only for myself, but I always write things that I would like to read. Telsharu is the crowning glory of my philosophy. It is a story that I love, characters that I am passionate about, a world that feels rich and complete in my mind.
It’s weirder now that it’s in print. A couple of days ago, I started a re-read of Telsharu, and will move from there into re-reading the draft of ‘Buk Tu’ as we move into the next stage of revisions. The re-read is important for my writing/revising process. But instead of reading Telsharu on a computer, or in manuscript form…I’ve been reading the bound book. It almost helps prevent me from self-editing as I go. Almost. But it’s also immensely satisfying, to feel the book. My book.
Maybe I’m vain. Nevertheless, I’m going to continue enjoying Telsharu as I read through. ‘Buk Tu’, still in rough form, will be less enjoyable, until we get it fine-tuned to the point