Hello peeps. According to some author on the internet, I shouldn’t be writing this post. It would seem that you are not allowed to be excited about finishing a piece, only the publication. Tom Cruise forbid you vaguebook about being excited. Shame on you! Seeing as I have more stuff in cyber prison than published, that would mean I’d only get to be publicly excited… well, once or twice a year. Shit, what a depressing life that would be.
So fuck that author. I’m bursting to get it out, so here it is…
I FINISHED A STORY TODAY!
I wrote the motherfucker longhand, too, which is a feat unto itself. At least for me it is. “Buh-buh-but E. John Irving writes 800 page novels longhand…” Fuck off, Bubble Burster. Lemme have my success, assnuts!
Anyfuck, the story is entitled “There Were Other Versions of Us” and it’s taken me two months to write about 27 pages. Not because I was writing longhand, but because the story is a little twisty-turny. Suffice it to say, the piece is too fucking smart for me to have written it. So I take no credit. Like Stephen King says (paraphrasing), writing is like an archeological dig; the bones are there, you just have to uncover them. He says it much better than that, but I don’t have time to look up the quote. It’s in his book On Writing if you wanna look it up.
So I wrote a really smart piece longhand and finished it. I would say that’s a first all around and worth blogging about. Usually I give up on the smart stuff. Not because I have no faith in my readers, but because I have little faith in me pulling it off.
Damn it. That cynical asshole author says I shouldn’t be self-deprecating either… I’m fucking horrible at following rules. #eatmyassrandomauthordude
See you tomorrow,
Pic of the Day