But this year’s novel is pure and utter crap. Nothing more, nothing less.
Last year’s novel was MUCH better.
I think I need to stick with editing that one, and just chalk the one I wrote this year up to insanity.
But this year’s novel is pure and utter crap. Nothing more, nothing less.
Last year’s novel was MUCH better.
I think I need to stick with editing that one, and just chalk the one I wrote this year up to insanity.
It’s sitting here, in my own laptop – not even printed out for editing and revising. (I edit better with a brightly colored felt tip in hand – purple, or green. . . or pink!)
I need to print it (all that paper and ink!) and get STARTED already.
Even if I just did the first copule of chapters for now, I could at least start mailing them out to some different publishers. . .
How am I supposed to reach them if I never work on them?
It’s like that guy who is always praying to win the lottery, for his whole entire life. Then he dies at 98, and asks God WHY he didn’t win after all that prayer.
And God gently tells him, “Because you never bought a ticket.”