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The Fifteenth Billion Pass

Hooray! After a very long cryo sleep, yours truly has come back from the land of the dead following the completion of his latest (and hopefully final) pass. For those who don’t know what a pass is:

Discreet Butt Grab

NBA players have mastered the art of the discreet butt grab.

No. That’s not the kind of pass I’m talking about. Let’s try this again:

Not even drunk driving is an excuse here.

Not even drunk driving is an excuse here.

Um, no. Still not the type of pass I’m talking about. Third time’s a charm?

State of the personal union.

Just missing some color, and a strong permanent sedative to put me out of my misery.

Ah, close enough.

In the literary world, a pass is every time you go through your entire manuscript to edit/proofread/change/rewrite/rearrange/destroy it. After 1 year, 9 months, 12 days (I’m just guessing here), 17 hours (I’m guessing even more here), and 54 minutes (yep, still guessing), I’ve finally completed the final pass of my second novel, ‘Save Me Last’. Now I feel like it’s finally worthy of being subjected to the harsh critiquing eyes of some agent/publisher who’ll probably rip into it and, in the off chance he or she likes it, will probably send it to a professional editor for even further revision, bringing back something that mildly represents what I originally wrote but ends up basically being a bastardized version of the vision I had in mind. Needless to say, the agent/publisher will convince me that this is for the best, and that despite my best efforts, time, sweat, and tears, this version of the novel will seem more acclaim and success and that that’s just the way the business is run and that I should deal with it or find someone else to help me represent my book.

Okay, so now that I’ve taken a deep breath and gotten that rant out of the way, I just want to say this:

Yay. Sorry for the lack of enthusiasm but it’s pretty late and I’ve been running on approximately 3 hours of sleep a night for the past six days trying to finish my story in order to get query letters out soon. Fingers crossed, people. Fingers crossed.

If my pitch is a success and the agents love what I’ve written, then I get to enjoy a brief period of sanity before I have to do this all over again for my third novel. Ah, the wonderful life of a writer. Where’s the steady stream of alcohol and uplifting music when you need it?

Even sadder than blue balls.

Even sadder than blue balls.


About pendrum

A paradox of eccentricity, graveness and apathy. Mix well, shake and serve hot.

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