It’s Been Done
Well, I had been working on my novel for years–YEARS, mind you–devoting every minute of free time to it. Staying up late, getting up early. Spending entire weekends on it.
And then finally, at long last, the first draft was complete. I decided to give copies to a few trusted friends for some honest feedback.
One of those friends was Jane. She stopped by one day, I handed her a copy of the manuscript, and she took it home to read.
She called about a half hour later. We exchanged hellos, and then:
“Hey, so…the novel. I got a few pages in, and…well, you know this story’s been done before, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“A story about a mouse and his motorcycle. It’s been done. The book’s even called The Mouse And The Motorcycle. You didn’t read that when you were a kid?”
I thanked Jane for her thoughts and disconnected the call. And from that moment on, pretty much gave up on that–or any–novel.
And there you have it. You asked, so I told you: That is how Beverly Cleary became my archnemesis.