Suzanne critted the wind story for me (and very rightly pointed out that the wind is not nearly present enough for it to be referred to as the wind story). Goodness, I'd forgotten just how thorough that girl can be. Between her crit and a couple on the 'orkshop, I am now itching to get back into the story and rewrite it so it actually, you know, works. (Or approaches working.)
Must. Hold. Back. Must. Not. Rewrite. Yet.
There's this moment, when writing a story, where I abandon it to my beta-readers. I know there's stuff broken and wrong, and I know there's elements missing, but I'm not always in a position to fix it. (And besides, I've found that the missing elements I expected to break the story don't always break the story. It's usually something else entirely.) It's a point where I admit if I don't send it out to fresh eyes, I will endlessly tweak what's there, unable to take a step back and look at what else I might need.
Then there's another moment, when I start collecting the feedback, and all these insights start rushing at me, building up in my head like pressure. And I begin to like the story again, and believe that it might, with a little more investment, actually become a story. It might one day grow up and leave my head. I much prefer this sort of moment, although it does feel rather like the edge of frenzy.
Pet peeve of the day: sites that play music at me. I don't care if you're a band and music is your livelihood. Sure, put some samples on there and let me elect whether to play them or not. But do not bombard me.
Ten (meaningless and valueless) points if you can guess the source of the lyrics in the post's title. Anyone who's ever received an email from me shall have (meaningless and valueless) points deducted if they don't recognise it.