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And pen number two has fallen in the line, to be replaced by a far inferior PaperMate Silk successor that has yet to win my trust. I like my gels, and pens should not by name or anything else recall lingerie. That’s just weird.

I’m starting to enjoy this, in that loose tooth, it’s-bleeding-but-I-love-the-pain sort of incredibly sick way. You know, spitting blood in the middle of first grade history class; that icky crackle when you move the tooth around with your tongue, the way the pain makes you want to bite down hard and just get it all over with, only that doesn’t improve anything…yep.

You know what I’m talking about. Don’t look at me like that, we all did it.

I’m beginning to think I might be a masochist.

Oh, wait. I was already a writer.

the horror, the horror

I can hear my MS pleading with me to stop, wait, we can talk about this…..no, no, not the kissing scene!

Yes. Yes, the kissing scene. Not enough connection to the plot, introduces a random side character not significant to anything then or afterward, too heavy on the adverbs, and my MC ends up macking on a far more thematically important secondary character later on anyway, so it’s not like we’re missing steam here. Begone, arbitrary tongue-with-groping moment: my MC will only be the better for having been deprived for 8 chapters before he gets a little somethin’ anyway. 


13 chapters in. This may take me the rest of the week. And, may I say, OW.


‘Scuse me while I go find a doorknob to tie my incisors to, would you?