60 Pages

My brain is fried!!! Ahhhhh!

This weekend I edited 60 pages of bad writing...Zadie Smith said this would happen if I went back through the words I had written. Looking back at previous blog posts 2005ish is dangerous. So many instances of me throwing my body on the ground wondering how I could have put such nonsense on paper.

Writing and me are not friends right now. How I will ever finish this damn book, I know not...

Did I tell you the title changed? It's now a book of short stories. No more of that memoir ish. Gangstas write short stories...they don't mess with a writing genre reserved for folks who have actually accomplished something. That in itself was a revelation I needed to get on board with.

Editing in a tiny arse apartment had its challenges by the way. Jersey decided he wanted to play Mr. Tom Cruise in Cocktails so he started experimenting with different stuff...Should I mention that his alcohol tolerance is equivalent to a 13 year-old girl's? He takes a couple of sips of something and he starts giggling and saying he's buzzed. Two vodka/rum drinks in and I thought I'd lose my damn mind. One sentence edited and, "Babe, I think that Planet of the Apes movie looks awesome!" ...Two sentences crossed out violently then, "Babe, I'm so sleepy. This drink is gooood." That went on for about two hours.

Did Virginia Woolf have to deal with this?

Photo by Jersey

Love that Jersey honors my ish when he cleans up


  1. Lady, you are on fire! Sixty pages over a weekend?!? That's amazing. Even more so given the silliness of your tween lush boy ;)

    I'm right there with you -- editing is my life for the next three weeks. Sympathy pains abound!


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