Happy Anniversary Pot!

Today is officially my one year anniversary with my crit partner (affectionately referred to as Pot, for those who don’t already know–I’m Kettle).  One year ago today I posted on some random Livejournal group (the name of which I don’t even remember) where you sort of created a profile of yourself as a writer.  She saw that I wrote romance and friended me, and that was the end of that.  We’ve gotten to know each other so well over the last year that it feels like much longer than that.  It has been absolutely awesome having someone who can push when I need to be pushed, be brutal when I need to hear it, and tell me to get over myself when I wig out.  She was just saying the other day how much she thinks I’ve grown as a writer, which gave me all sorts of warm fuzzies.  It’s always nice to hear one has improved.  With her help I finished that novel that had been kicking around and morphing for nine years (the one I am currently rewriting that is turning into an entirely new book), and I’ve gotten large chunks done on 3 others.  She has been such a great friend and an invaluable asset to me as a writer.  She’s really helped me to push my boundaries as a writer and encouraged me to try new things.  I hope I’ve managed to be as encouraging to her in her efforts to improve as a writer as well.  In an event, here’s to you, Pot!  And to the continuation of a beautiful friendship.

One thought on “Happy Anniversary Pot!

  1. Aw, thanks. I’m sure I don’t know how you tracked down the actual date for this. I always wanted a writing friend, someone who actually knows what I’m looking for when I ask her to read something, someone who’s actually interested in talking about writing, and willing to read the same thing a number of times with just a few words changed.

    Who would have thought that person would turn out to be my best friend and listen to all my other insanity (even when it involves a lot of creepy dolls and guess what my kid just did’s). Happy Anniversary, Kettle! You have come a long way (much further than I in the same space of time), baby, but you’re still black.

    Pot.

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