I’m on my way to my full-fledged first draft of my novel.
Don’t worry. I’m not deluding myself. I know it’s going to stink.
But a few very very good friends have promised to read it and tear it to shreds.
It’s for the best I know. I don’t plan on crying or committing suicide or anything quite as drastic. Yes, I know. I just have to get on with it. It’s the only way to a much improved second draft. Writing begets better writing. It’s one of those rules I can’t argue with.