Oct the Seventeenth
God I’m tired.
Chapter Wednesday ended halfway down page 89, which disappoints me a little bit because page 90 will be blank and that makes me feel like I didn’t try hard enough, even though it’s the longest chapter of the book. I don’t know. Maybe when I go through and do the proper first draft I’ll add a half a page. Honestly I wish I didn’t even bother with the Scriviner reading, this feels like such a waste of time.
Maybe this whole book is just a waste of fucking time.
… … …
Okay, I stopped and breathed.
This is just a book. It’s just a book, just a silly fiction tale. Yes, it feels like I have a lot riding on it because I fucked up the rest of my life and realistically have no other hope for myself even though realistically the book itself isn’t even a hope for me because I don’t know how to write I don’t know what I’m doing maybe I should just kil
… … …
Okay. So I’m a little tiny bit stressed out right now, to say the least. I uh… it’s not that the book is bad, I don’t think, it’s just like… I don’t know. I won’t delete it, that’s for sure. I don’t think I’m going to be doing any rewriting, either. I don’t think there’s really a point to it, like, this is not going to be the great American novel. I’m not afraid to rewrite it or anything, it’s just like… I don’t know, Journal. I just feel so lost right now. Maybe I’ll feel differently when I go to read it as one body of work instead of double reading each and every fucking subchapter.
Ugh. Why did I decide to do this? Like, even when I was writing it I had doubts. In the beginning it was fun but the middle is a fucking slog. Or is it? I don’t even know. What is writing? What is life? Why was I born?
… … …
I think I just need to step away for a little bit. I processed, like, 30 something pages today, that’s a lot.
Is that a lot?
Am I terrible at this, should I just delete my shit and never go back and god fucking damnit what iS WRONG WITH ME?!
… … …
There was something else, but… fuck it, I forget. I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind with this shit. Did I actually try my best or did I just rush through it to get it done? I can hardly even fucking remember fucking writing the fucking thing. I feel like fucking screaming…
I’m having a hard time right now, Journal. A really hard time. I hope this wasn’t all a big fucking mistake.
… … …
Say thankya, Journal. ‘Preciate ya. Long days and pleasant nights~
This has been the next journal entry from Untitled Bigfoot Project. Here is everything you need to know about it:
I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.
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If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~