I r tired. I r tired lots. Sigh. I’m still editing, and making progress, but honestly I’m just totally procrastinating on the ending. See, my first book was written in feverish hivey spurts. This one has had a serious lack of hive and I actually, yanno, LIKED writing it. But my last book was a flop, due to my ending having a major case of teh suck. I knew it had teh suck. I tried to fix it. I changed it a lot. Like to the point where I’d tell someone I was changing the ending and all I was getting in return were a series of groans. I was never happy with it. Agents were not either. I had a decent request rate. The ending just…sucked. Which I’m fine with. That story was more therapy than anything else. And it was the story I wrote to PROVE I could write a book.
But this one is different. This one has THE ONE in big shiny neon flashies. They were not put there by me. They were put there by people that heard what it was about and were eager to read it from the first few thousand words. They were, in other words, put there by people who rock. People who I’m afraid to let down.
I fear the ending. I fear when I get there it will not be made of win.