Foolishly, I wish to chronicle the moment when I thought my writing was pure genius. That moment is…right now. Yes, my writing has been crapped straight from the gods. Don’t you all wish you were me?
Tomorrow I will read tonight’s Einsteinien output and reconsider. I expect the hanging-head of shame to follow. Still, cracked 10k in total word count today. Bravely explored Chapter Three, I think. Wondered where the story was going but then shushed that voice, hit it over the head with a hammer, and buried it in a burlap sack in the woods. That will show it.
Yes, I speak to parts of my subconscious, and threaten those parts with violence. Doesn’t everyone?
Note to self–don’t blog when extremely tired.
People of Earth–your objects are too heavy, and your replacement spine technology too infantile. Thus I am laid low while the steroids pumped into my back disperse and do their magic business.
If I write part of my novel while on steroids–and it’s published–do they void my contract and give it to the next fellow in line? I’d better practice: “Under the advice of counsel, I don’t know what was in that syringe, Your Honor.”
Hooray, Chapter One is done. Again. Yes, we’ve been here before people.
Although happy with Chapter One, I was not happy with the beginning of Chapter Two. And it got worse. Then worse. Then worse some more. And then I realized the problem with Chapter Two was Chapter One. So I went back to fix it.
Too much of this “going back to fix just one thing” can be fatal in the first draft. But I feel better with where the story is pointed now. The plot of the book is actually referenced in Chapter One! The stakes are higher! Somebody dies!
It will be better than ten Superbowls.
At any rate, onward to Chapter Two (for real this time).
Chapter one of THE NEW NOVEL (first draft) is done. Now is the time on Sprockets when we dance.
Dear Anonymous Publisher,
I respect your right to reject my work. It probably warranted rejection. However, must you then send me spam email advertising your publication when:
A. I did not request emails concerning your publication
B. You just rejected me. I mean, spam after rejection? Come on. Really?
Writer getting back on the horse