Blogger doesn't want me to stamp YELLOW ROSES
I wrote an entry last night about finishing the line edits on YELLOW ROSES, and Blogger ate it without my knowledge. Is this a sign?
The end is nigh and I am sharpening the stake. The line edits are done. There is one scene to write (and it'll be a doozy), a handful of things to change and clarify as a result of that scene, and finis. It feels like I'm reaching the top of a very, very deep well and starting to glimpse the sunlight.
Hey, I love this book. I think it may be the best thing I've yet written. I love it with a passion that is unholy for nonliving objects. I also have had this book in my head since the beginning of time. Okay, not that long, but I wrote the sucky novella version in 2004. I wrote it again in 2006-07. It's now 2008 and time to get it the hell off my desk and on its way to New York, where it will become an instant bestseller and cement my place as the preeminent voice of horror in my time.
Um. I might have gotten a little carried away there. I'll settle for a decent contract and an advance that doesn't remind me of my sixth-grade allowance.
By the end of the week, I swear to God. Stake in heart, pour the booze in the White Star wineglass. It might be something stronger than wine for this one.
The end is nigh and I am sharpening the stake. The line edits are done. There is one scene to write (and it'll be a doozy), a handful of things to change and clarify as a result of that scene, and finis. It feels like I'm reaching the top of a very, very deep well and starting to glimpse the sunlight.
Hey, I love this book. I think it may be the best thing I've yet written. I love it with a passion that is unholy for nonliving objects. I also have had this book in my head since the beginning of time. Okay, not that long, but I wrote the sucky novella version in 2004. I wrote it again in 2006-07. It's now 2008 and time to get it the hell off my desk and on its way to New York, where it will become an instant bestseller and cement my place as the preeminent voice of horror in my time.
Um. I might have gotten a little carried away there. I'll settle for a decent contract and an advance that doesn't remind me of my sixth-grade allowance.
By the end of the week, I swear to God. Stake in heart, pour the booze in the White Star wineglass. It might be something stronger than wine for this one.
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