Well, between being sick for two weeks and then having work, soccer, scouts, and life to work around, I've not gotten much done in the way of writing. The trolls are going to have to wait, J.T. is stuck in Roanoke with the not-so-lost colonists, Josiah is not yet on his way to a publisher (synopsis needs work!), and the issues plaguing my paranoid Abigail have been solved only in my head!
For work, I'm reading books that might be considered for the 2010 Newbery. This is for a fifth grade project we conduct every year. Anyway, there are 35 titles to preview. I read some, and I feel encouraged because I can see the strength of my own writing in comparison. (I know, it sounds rather egotistical to think I'm better than them, but my writing seems better IMHO.) Others encourage me because I feel the writing is equal to my own so I truly see the worth of my hard work and ambition. When I read books like Lisa Graff's Umbrella Summer and Suzanne LeFluer's Love, Aubrey, however, I get discouraged. My genre is different, my style is different, yet I see how absolutely breath-takingly superior these books are to anything I've ever imagined. Both books made me cry with the way they addressed death of siblings and parents and how their characters grew and changed.
I'm just trying to remind myself that my books shouldn't be compared to these, but it's hard!