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I Finished Writing My Book So You Can Go Right To Hell
I finished writing it.
I thought I was finished writing it two times already this year but both times I found out that my publishers did not think it was finished so I had to write 10,000 more words both times, which was a lot more words than I originally thought the book was going to be.
That’s a lot of words and I resented it.
Worse, they were right, and the extra stuff is now the best part of the books.
I resent that too.
The book is finished, though.
Sorry for saying fuck you but sometimes my joy at finishing things I’ve been dragging out becomes wildly hostile. This is part of my process and you have to respect it.
This was a very hard book to write! The hardest of the three! I don’t mean to suggest that writing is not a lovely and mostly-enjoyable career (it is), but it feels so good to be done with this project I would like to come over and scream in all of your ears.
Sorry for obviously phoning it in with the Shatner Chatner this last week. IT’S BECAUSE I THOUGHT MY BOOK WAS DONE TWICE AND I WAS WRONG BOTH TIMES AND THAT DRAINS ONE OF MOMENTUM.
Fuck you again!!!!
(Ah sorry you’re all WONDERFUL)
Don’t you fucking dare ask me what it’s about, I JUST THIS SECOND FINISHED WRITING IT