I’m just really sad right now
I miss you.
But I’m not sure if those words mean enough now.
So the other day my friend decided to tell me what my book should be like.
Now the last thing I recall about said book is that it’s mine. Not yours. Not your next door neighbors. Not that snobby kids down the block. Not that blonde girl in gym or the brunette in math class. Mine.
Don’t tell me how my book should be this because that’s not going to fly. Currently every word I am writing, for the most part, is needed. I can always cut it down. That’s really not the problem. My book is barely 40K words at this point, I can’t cut it down if it’s not even finished yet. I can’t revise it if it’s not completely done. I already know that I’m going to change some dialogue and fix some descriptions and make it all flow nicely together, but you’re not allowed to criticize a book that I wrote and that you refuse to read even though I asked several times nicely (and you’re supposed to be my “best friend” words from your mouth HA). So no. I do what I want because it’s not yours, it’s mine.