This morning I wrote the crappiest first draft of a book ever penned.
It is foul, I tell you. Beyond ugly. Practically unreadable.
But it’s done.
So, now I’ll go outside and enjoy the rest of the day. First, with a nod to Annie Lamott*, a prayer to the writing gods: Please don’t let me fall off a mountain or get hit by a bus before I am able to begin turning this piece of writing into a decent manuscript; I would hate for my mourning family to find this wretched first draft!
And Happy Labor Day.
*If you are a writer, particularly a new one, consider reading Anne Lamott’s BIRD BY BIRD. Trust me.