First. Ever. Shhh.

On a serious note, I’m a fan of the crust. The heel. Start and end parts of the loaf of bread. Whichever name you like to call a rose. Some people aren’t. I am. Especially when it’s toasted. So when I just found out all I had was only one crust left, I didn’t really mind. At all, at all. In fact, couldn’t wait. Horsed it into the toaster. Checked the fridge. What I could put on it. Fridge. Bare. Once. More. Few tomatoes. Toast. Burning. Burnt. Didn’t matter. Burnt crust of toast. Sliced baby tomatoes. Washed down with a glass of gin. Could’ve been a burnt sock. Quite the feast! In fact. A celebratory feast. Why so? Drummer boy, spit it out… I finally finished a full draft of my book. First draft. Rough work draft. Rambling draft. Boney draft. Skeleton draft. According to Hemingway. The s**t one.

Marshall

Final sentence has actually been bouncing around my head for a while now. Shower epiphany. Gist at least. And the first one. Problem was filling out all the bits in between. About 70, 000 words or so, in between. Anyways, the closer I got to writing that last sentence, the slower I found myself writing. Not really knowing if I’d get there, until I actually got there. Mind fighting itself. As if the marsh man part of my brain, Marshall, the dope, had been woken from a slumber. Oh Jesus, what happened?! My alarm never went off!!! Nooo! Can’t let him reach that point! Might spur him on more!

Marshall trying his best to pull up the reins. Too late. Dancing over the first hurdle. Wrote out the last sentence. Instantly. A cloud disappeared. Fog lifted up. All the clutter. Dispersed. Doubt. Funked out. Along with all the other dudes. Just left. Shoulders. Chilling. Smiling. Like an ape. Go on the baby steps! Learning by numbers. And now, technically, I’ve a draft of my book. Happy funking day.

Wriding & Reeaking

Not to worry, I’m sure Doubt, Marshall, and all the other apes have just gone out for a pint. They’ll try to get back. I also know how good the draft isn’t. Yet. Which is good I think. Big list of things that need changing. Big list. Big. List. Biiiiiiiig list. You get the drift. I have a chunk of work left to do. Just in case you didn’t get the drift. Oh Jesus. Still though, I’ve figured out it’s far easier to re-write and tweak, than writing for the first time. Obvious enough. Obviously. Particularly when you are writing and wading at the same time. Wriding. As some like to call it. Silent double u. Wride off! Re: Eak on!

Now that the fog has lifted for the time being, it’s pretty clear to me that there are definitely far easier ways to write a book. I’m sure of that. Probably. Just not my way. Definitely not my way. Funk it though. Spruces it up going the dumb ape route. I mean, logically, writing a book is tough. Not like there’s hundreds and thousands published every year, right? Yeah, see, I knew that, right? Wait, actually. Hang on, I hear keys. Front door. Opening. The lads. Back from their pint. Jesus, Marshall, that was a quick one! Oh right. Now is the time to make it shine! Just not right now. Weekend break on. Finally going to bed when it’s dark. Can’t remember the last time that happen. Wuu huu!

Watch The Sun Come Up (Moam Remix) – Example

A Few Kind Words – Meuersault

Swim Until You Can’t See Land – Frightened Rabbit

Tags: A Few Kind Words, Baby Steps, Book, Ernest Hemingway, Example, First Draft, Frightened Rabbit, Gin, Hurdles, Meuersault, Mind, Swim Until You Can't See Land, Toast, Watch The Sun Come Up (Moam Remix), Writing