My mom donated a copy of Untimely Undeath to the library in my hometown (pop. 3000) and someone has apparently checked it out. I think this is what they call "having made it".
Sometimes I think I'm over being socially anxious and sometimes I walk through my neighborhood after a particularly trying doctor's appointment with gauze taped all over my arms thinking "oh fuck my neighbors are gonna know about my shitty veins"
Have decided to approach my new job with the mantra of "WWCFSAD"βwhat would Chihiro from Spirited Away do. Note this will likely make me worse, but at least I can imagine that the terrors and confusions are more fantastical and less based in relearning physics.
Have decided to use this time between finishing my draft and getting a new job to learn to code. It's going really well - so far I've *checks notes* started dev for a new book about a cyberpunk vampire infested Boston...
Y'know I never understood why someone would want to use a pen name until my very wholesome fifty year old male coworker decided to read my sapphic romance novel. He's on chapter 8. They make out in chapter 11. I feel like I'm watching a horror movie.
Would anyone mind if I just write three books in a row about music? Bluesleeves is about the complex politics of upper woodwinds and Alternatives is about electroswing supervillains and The Beast is just about the healing properties of bluegrass so really they don't overlap...
Never written a draft that was going to need such heavy edits before - usually I just have fluff to cut and foreshadowing to extend back, but this one needs full surgery. How do y'all tackle the second draft?