And after sleeping on it, and having a drink and grumbling and sleeping on it some more, and reading and re-reading until my eyes hurt . . . I realized what I already knew: that Julie 1.0 is the true story, Julie 2.0 is just too thin
(. . . that is, it’s a decent story, but it lacks nuance, it doesn’t handle the choice right, and it flattens complexities in ways that don’t do Julie any favors, and her namesake has already had a raw deal so why write a second such and just perpetuate this **** . . .)
and since I’ve had confirmation from the editors that even Julie 2.0 was too long and the word count is indeed a line in the sand, I’m now utterly back to the drawing board and somehow even more grimly determined to produce something that fits this call . . . in six measly weeks. There are so few historical markets, and I have done so much research these past two years . . .
What novel?