I’ve researched. I’ve outlined. I’ve created characters. Now
it’s time. Time to sit and get started writing. Nervous doesn’t even begin to
cover it. This moment feels big and scary and important. I’m even embracing a
modern cliché and playing Eminem’s Lose
Yourself. I know that I will finish this story, no doubt about it. I’ve
done it before, right? So I can do it again. But what happens after that? So
many things will go into making this story profitable. But I can’t think about
that right now. All that is months in the future. Here in the present I have to
put hands to keyboard and just write. No more stalling. So okay. Deep breath. Begin
writing. Excuse any vomit on the keyboard. I didn't have any of my mom's spaghetti, but still ...
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