Tuesday, May 29, 2012

give me a cigarette. right now.

I'm exhausted. Shouldn't I be cheering? I just finished writing a book called RAISING CHEER! For fuck's sake. The initial draft blasted out of me. And I got immediate feedback from five trusted readers, including my agent, Melissa. I consolidated the notes, burrowed back in, and rewrote the 250ish pages. Then, printed them out and reread, and reworkshopped and, again, rewrote. All in less than two weeks.

Who knew I would fuck up "towards" and "toward" repeatedly? Write numerals instead of spelling out the numbers? Rename minor characters mid-manuscript. I think rereading a zipped out draft can be among the most humbling of all activities. Ugh.

And now all I want to do is sleep.

Funnily enough, I just read a similar blog entry over in Averilville.

And, copycat that I am, I'm gonna ask the same question of you all. How are you after being rode hard and put away wet? Exhilarated? Exhausted? Horny? Sad?


  1. Horny. My poor husband is exhausted.

    Congratulations to you, though I've probably said it before. The book sounds amazing and you're a fucking badass to have cranked it out so fast. I see some pony-shaped post-it notes in my future. (Who's the copycat now?)

    1. Oh no, Averil, my dear. Your husband is lucky.

  2. You are a badass! All that in 2 weeks. Dear lord, woman, you need to lie down!!

    Well, you need to lie down on a deck chair on the beach and have someone bring you mojitos with little umbrellas in them, but that was a given, right?

    Congrats Suzy! Where's that pack of Marlboro Lights?

  3. I actually did have a celebratory cocktail (once it wasn't 10 am anymore). Alas, no paper umbrella was involved. My eye is twitching. Guess I should take a break from the machine.


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