I'm doing the happy dance around the hovel today. (I know I said I don't dance, but this is different.) Just finished the rewrite on my novel. Now I await the verdict from a few brave folk who agreed to slog through it.
I'm so picturing a Roman Emperor giving me the thumbs down. My instinct is always to predict failure on a epic scale. It's a good thing that the books I ordered from Suspect Thoughts just arrived. Without the distraction of reading, my happy dance would slow down into pacing, and then the colossal mind-fuck would commence.
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