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That guy

Wednesday 6/26/24

That guy in a Western who says something like, "I'm going to dance on your grave," to the other guy before they have a gunfight, always seems to win.


I don't like people who don't have self-control. Regardless of in what area. I never have. As a kid I didn't. I had no time for people like that. No respect. No regard. Mostly disgust. I'm talking things that people can control without much effort. Not horrible, deep issues.


Letter. This was to the publisher of Dzanc.


Hey, man. How's it going? You should read this. It's the first story in my book, There Is No Doubt: Story Girls, which is like one of my twenty new books. All the main characters and/or narrators in this one are female. But trust me. Read this. It's not like any other experience you'll ever have. Promise. This will f--- you up. In a good way. 


Another to someone else:


I finally got a chance to look at the Dracula piece today. It's so smartly illustrated that I was taken aback. Those were the perfect images, I felt, and it made me very happy to see them. Thank you for figuring that out so expertly and doing it. 


More work on "Dead Thomas." Up to 4500 words. Unlikely to get much if any longer.


I was doing work at the cafe and came back to fix a paragraph. I wanted to make it read easier. Take a couple knots out. These were not actual knots. There's no barrier now though between what I'm doing and the reader. I am answering to the reader. I work for the reader. I don't want to impede or slow their movement through the work at all. I'm here to facilitate. I change things that people would never have been able to write in the first place, and if they did, they'd be overjoyed at what they created. But that doesn't mean it's good enough with what I'm doing.


My effort in all areas has been poor lately. I'm struggling to get started. It's hard to do anything when you know it's all a done deal before you begin or regardless of what you do and how well you do it and how much it's needed.


Walked three miles, did 100 push-ups, ran seventy-five circuits of stairs at the Connecticut gate, but none of this is good enough.



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