Sunday, April 10
*deep breath*
I. Finished. THE. FUCKING. BOOK!
YES!
*throws confetti*
January 2003. That's when I started The Fucking Book. At the time I was confident I'd have a rough draft done in three months. Other people were writing books even faster, why not me?
Oh childish innocence, where art thou?
But two years and I don't even want to think how many trashed partial drafts later, I am finished the fucking book.
*throws more confetti*
Final word count is 106,967 words, not counting "THE END", which I typed, it must be said, with vengeful satisfaction. That's roughly 428 manuscript pages to you non-word-counting people.
And it's DONE. Of course, I have to revise it, but I'm not thinking about that now, I'm basking in the glow of done-ness, don't bother me with silly details. It's done.
Let there be balloons! Let there be music! Let there be alcohol!
*throws more confetti*
*realizes she's getting confetti everywhere and stops*
Okay. Y'all can stop staring now.
I. Finished. THE. FUCKING. BOOK!
YES!
*throws confetti*
January 2003. That's when I started The Fucking Book. At the time I was confident I'd have a rough draft done in three months. Other people were writing books even faster, why not me?
Oh childish innocence, where art thou?
But two years and I don't even want to think how many trashed partial drafts later, I am finished the fucking book.
*throws more confetti*
Final word count is 106,967 words, not counting "THE END", which I typed, it must be said, with vengeful satisfaction. That's roughly 428 manuscript pages to you non-word-counting people.
And it's DONE. Of course, I have to revise it, but I'm not thinking about that now, I'm basking in the glow of done-ness, don't bother me with silly details. It's done.
Let there be balloons! Let there be music! Let there be alcohol!
*throws more confetti*
*realizes she's getting confetti everywhere and stops*
Okay. Y'all can stop staring now.
Blogarama
