I whine a lot about writing, but I never have whined quite so persuasively as this:
From the wellspring that is encouragement and noodging from those of you who actually like this crap, I’ve been slowly, o yea verily so very slowly, compiling stuff to try to be A Book Writer. Being A Book Writer is hard shit, Schmidt, I tell you that. You know how when you try to get a decent shopping list together and you can’t really remember exactly what there are two of in the word “broccoli,” is it Cs or Ls? Yeah, well, multiply that by about infinity and herd some cats while you’re at it, and it’s a close approximation of organizing what passes for thoughts for me.
Selling it, I suspect, will be much easier: she’s guaranteed one sale just in this household.
(Besides, the book tour will almost certainly be An Event To Remember.)