My life. Lately I've been spending a goodly portion of it lamenting about my age. I need to try not to think about it.
The band is on a two week hiatus or something.
My novel draft is back in my hands after my sister had it for a while. I'm removed from it far enough that I can begin to edit it with a fresh mind. But before I do I need to read some history books dealing with similar themes. I will say this. The book needs to be streamlined so that everything is firing at once and moving along. It needs to move at the beginning and slow down at the end. It's too leisurely at the beginning and the end rushes. I need to make the themes pop out. This is not a story. It's an essay. An essay on addiction and faith (or the lack thereof) and life and endings (or the lack thereof).
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