I hate this fucking Work In Progress so much right now. It's all I can do not to delete every vestige of it from every computer, every backup drive, every place it might conceivably be.
Which means the rewrites are probably finished.
It's time to send it to my agent, then go sit on a beach with someone else's book and a big drink for a week.
After which I'll be able to look at it again.
2 comments:
Hell, don't even read. Just go listen to awesome tunes and watch dirty movies. Cleans the palette.
And yet, it reads like a freaking rocket. Shut up and go relax. The book will take care of itself from here on out.
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