Yeah, you read the subject line right. I'm boogieing. (Boogeying? Buggering? Buggering sounds right. We'll go with that.)
This book has a unique distinction among bedraggled three ring binder manuscripts cobbled together by stoned hipsters-I've already gotten paid for it. I wrote the whole fuckin' thing on the clock at work during down times. The call center biz is onerous and depressing, but not without advantages for the modern slacker.
You have all (hopefully) seen the preview of the Codex Kalachnikova below. I don't think it will be anything groundbreaking-a Conan novel with Kalashnikovs, a sort of Walter Mitty piece of derivative trash with a few Piers Anthony cheap plot puns and a lot of Watership Down references. I'm not trying to change the world, just cash a fuckin' check. I'm okay with straight to paperback for all three volumes of the prospective trilogy; that would be three more paperbacks than I have previously sold.
So how did I finish the fucker, with so many other projects left strewn behind me like discarded syringes?
I just wrote man. I just wrote 2000 words every night until I was done. And if something sucked, or I hated it, I kept it anyway and wrote on with notes written in the margins to change it later. I didn't get bogged down perfecting it while I was still creating it; I just created it first and printed it off at the end of the night and filed it away in a cheap three binder. And when I went back to work the next day I did the same thing again. It was...disturbingly simple.
In the end, even if no single person besides me ever reads this shit, it feels good to have finished something.
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