My Book, By Me, Jen

So there's that long piece of fiction that I wrote last summer. I won't call it a book, because it's not a book – it's a big flabby interconnected mess with duplicated scenes all over the place and a huge, gross, ridiculous number of brackets with the words "insert stuff here" where there should be other scenes and there's not really an ending and it begins three or four times with yet more duplicated material and some sections where I started to hate the narrator so I wrote those bits in an entirely different way and it's really kind of bad.

So I'm trashing it. No, that's not true. I'm "setting it aside." I'm letting it "lie fallow." I'm trashing it. Temporarily. And I'm starting all over again. I have this cool idea about a bowling alley and this guy and there's a ghost and stuff and this summer, I'm going to write it. And it's going to suck. But in a good and salvageable first draft kind of way.

Thus, I have totally spoken.