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So close. 20K left (I think: I don’t plan to hit a certain word count so much as I do certain plot points, so I usually end up going over and then revising to hit my approximately-100K-goal). Here I sit, eking my way toward THE END, knowing I’ve gone and waxed way too lyrical in the home stretch of this book  (I always do, for some reason), wondering if all these interesting revelations happening so close to the climax are even going to be a little bit relevant, wondering why my characters can’t just focus, damn it, and follow a decently drawn plotline instead of smacking one another around and/or spending too much time thinking about sex.

I feel like my high school chaperones must have felt trying to herd my senior class to the beach for the Last Class Trip: scowling at giggling herds of scantily dressed girls, knowing damned well at least a few of the rowdier guys must have come here the night before to bury six packs of Labats in the sand, wondering if those two kids out in the water still have their suits on, because it looks like maybe they don’t. I am the wet blanket, herding all my wayward charges onto the bus and insisting we not take the back roads home: the highway, thank you, driver, and you two in the back stop kissing right now! Detention for all of you if you’re not in your seats, facing forward, and not touching each other in thirty seconds! Stop singing!

Here I sit, looking for excuses not to end this, because much as I’ve bitched here, it’s been fun.

Maybe I should read it from the beginning; I think my voice changed halfway through.

No, idiot, you do that after you finish. That’s why we call them revisions.

But hold on, I think I missed a major plot point back in chapter three that’s becoming important now: if I don’t get that fleshed out nothing after chapter 16 will make sense!

Jackass, the whole point of revisions is to fix stuff like that AFTER you finish. Make a note and come back to it later. Sit! Write!

Look, I’m serious, if I don’t get this theme down NOW I will be a failure as a writer! People will LAUGH! Something might explode! World peace will never happen!

Oh my god, that’s it. You are not allowed another cappuccino until you get in at least 1000 words. Face forward! Stop playing footsie! You’re grounded!

And so on.