sometimes i write these e-mails and by the time i’m done with them,
well the internet needs garbage like this . . . .
-begin e-mail-
alright, so i’m eight days into this nonsense of trying to write a
book in a month and a problem that i’d never bothered to consider
has reared one hell of an ugly head, namely that instead of not
enough material i’m going to have way too fucking much,
being deprived of cigs i’ve been putting in some hard-core time
pacing about and behaving in ways that are irrational even
for me, but i just did the math on my current pace of word
out-put and instead of coming anywhere near 50,000 i’m going
to wind up with something like 117,330 which is going to be
400 + fucking pages, and i’m already having to fight with the
fact that it’s getting harder not to go back and fix shit, i’ve
already decided that if i go back and it’s just utter dreck i
might just have to burn the goddamn thing, because who in the
hell wants to edit something that fucking long if it’s a
complete and utter mess. my fucking story arc keeps shifting,
i just went through two brand-new scenarios of what the climax
and ending might look like, and i already had one figured out,
plus, i have absolutely nothing going on in terms of sub-plot,
yet i keep thinking of various scenes i could throw in there,
but that means going back, and i don’t want to go back yet,
because i don’t even now what ending i’m trying to get to,
never mind if i can or cannot get there yet
and now my neighbors are hooting at me,
they’re probably seeing the storm clouds from my over-heated,
nicotine deprived brain come drifting out the fucking window,
and the bastards hoot as if this is some kind of joke,
maybe they’re not hooting at me, i’ve been reading the doctor
again and it’s starting to affect me
jesus christ this e-mail is almost as much a mess as this
novel thing i’m trying to write . . .
oh yeah, i did figure out what my hero’s primary weapon is,
which perhaps partially explains why i’ve got a tent-pole with
a blue handkerchief wrapped around it for a handle stuck in
a sort of canvas sheath that i’ve safety-pinned to my pants,
goddamn it’s all coming together, or is that apart, i’m
confused by now,
so what are you up to fer memorial day,
i’m a hell of alot of fun at parties
and no, i do not want a cigarette
-end e-mail-
it really is a wonder i have any friends left at all
haha