I’ve decided I’m a terrible person to collaborate with.
It’s not because I’m a terrible person. Yes, I just said I’m a terrible person, but in different more narrow manner. It’s not that I can’t write…I’m beginning to believe that I some skills in that area. And it’s not because my co-authors get on my nerves or fail to bring it.
The onus of this problem belongs firmly on my shoulders.
I should have known I was no good. A couple years ago, Maurice Broaddus and I had this fantastic idea for a novella. We start writing it, and maybe 10,000 words in, I begin to cause long delays. My excuse list is long: Apex, day job, kiddos, travel…yadda yadda yadda. Finally, I threw the towel in and told Maurice I could not go on. To his credit, he finished the novella and Apex published it with the title I Can Transform You.
A year ago I co-wrote a story with Elaine Blose. We finished the story, but I had a bad habit of tweaking it without telling her. Yes, I realize this is a sin worthy of having my friendship card revoked. She forgave. I learned a lesson. And we’re still shopping the story.
Maurice, bless his heart, is a glutton for punishment. He asks me to write a novel with him. I say yes, because I’m oblivious to how much I suck. Things go great for the first 10,000 words. Then again…I hit a time wall. Everything and everybody wants my time, and I have none I can dedicate to our novel. I’m two months late submitting my next bit of words for then novel and fully expect Maurice to drive down to Lexington from Indianapolis and kick my ass (except he won’t because he’s scared of bridges, so he hates crossing the Ohio river, ha!).
So, the lesson here is to be careful who you collaborate with. You might get stuck with somebody like me.
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