March 24th, 2008

catie_cute

:p

I have reached the part of the book where I’m quite certain nothing I’ve written hangs together, that it’s all a bunch of drifty crap that has no integral structure, where the end is so far away that it will never actually be reached but I’m really more than ready to be done writing, and I just know that when I turn this disasterous lump into my editor she’s going to first weep, then try to gently break it to me that my career is over and I should make haste in finding a job shoveling elephant shit, because it’s certain to be less awful than what I’ve just written.

The fact that this is the sixteenth novel I’ve written, and that this happens every time, assures me that not only am I wrong, but having reached this stage means everything’s probably going just fine.

Oddly enough, I do not find that at all reassuring, and am looking for travelling circuses with whom to put in a resume…

(x-posted from the essential kit)