It's one thing for an established author to say go for it, ignore critics, submit when you're ready, and ignore doubts and second guesses. It's another thing to be a writer struggling helplessly in the dark. The Dance of the Seven Veils. Salome knows what she's got underneath, but the veils might as well be opaque, imposing edifices to anyone viewing her wearing the veils.
Voice was an impenetrable barrier when I was struggling to understand it. Until I found my way around it, I felt adrift on a wine dark sea of an obsidian night. From the other side voice is barely a whisp of a veil.
The seven veils separating struggling writer from winning writer as I see them are craft: structure, antagonism, causation, and tension; and voice: narrative distance and psychic distance; and audience appeal: decorum. The last is yet my Rubicon to cross. The current project is closing on the river's terminal boundary.
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