I plan to have the book out in May, depending on the availability of my proofreader who I haven’t even contacted yet because I am still working on the draft and it’s still got to go to a beta-reader and I’m still pulling the extra overtime to pay for the proofreading. All that matters is getting another goddam book out and then another and then another and I will not stop. I release into the universe my stupid ingrained beliefs that nothing I do is ever good enough because that is why I have a bushel of unreleased and/or unfinished books on my hard drive. It going to be the best I can make it with what I have, and that’s going to be enough. It’s crappy, it’s way too big (96K), but it exists. In that 30 hours per week, I will be working on my draft. Next goal is to make a steady 30 hours per week minimum for a solid month. Fuck, it’s so little, isn’t it? One hundred-and-sixty-eight 60-minute blocks in every week, but nevertheless, I am delighted this week I managed to get my ass in a chair in front of my keyboard for a solid 27 of them, making 101 hours worked so far in 2020, and 63,995 words written (probably just as many deleted, but screw it.) Pick your glass up, my friends, and make a toast with me for I am fucking jubilant. I am thrilled beyond words this week: I finally – for the first time in over 2 years – made my writing goal this week of at least 3 hours per day.
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