Really it’s day two. Yesterday I printed out section 5 and marked it up a little and then was overcome with the vapors. [Actually it’s day three, since I began this post yesterday.] This is the section that has never been right, the section I have handed to people as if it were my homework crumpled from the bottom of the bag and said, please dear god help me.
Not coincidentally, this is the section that makes my book not like other books.
Today, for the first time in perhaps my whole history with The Fucker, I looked at one of the chapterlets in section 5 and knew exactly what was wrong with it. Usually I have a feeling of dread, like I forgot to go to an exam, like I forgot my mom’s birthday, like I left my baby in the car, when I look at these chapterlets. But this time I looked it straight in the eye.
Hello, chapterlet. I know what your problem is. I may not know exactly how to fix you, but after a couple hours of intense staring/procrastination/crying/swearing/washing dishes/writing/revising, I may have the glimmer of an idea.
Dear Fucker, I will attempt to finish you this summer or die trying.*
[*That’s a metaphoric/melodramatic die, not a literal die.]
What are your insane goals?