I can't even get a friggin' title grammatically correct. Shouldn't it read pile of dog shit? Or perhaps somewhere out there one really could find a pile of dogs made out of shit.
I'm burning through my words trying to get as much of this story complete as fast as I can. There are errors on every sentance. I can't even spell sentance right. Sentence. There. Happy? My characters appear incredibly one dimensional. My hero is a zero at this point, though he's not quite a ridiculous cliche yet. My inner editor wants to go back and redo the entire thing.
I know if I do, the task will never be complete. I must drive forward. There's been a detour every time for me in the past and it never ended well. It has to be different this time. Something must change.
So for now, I will trudge through 100,000 words of pure monkey poo if I have to. I'm told I'm a good writer, and there's enough arrogance pumping through these veins for me to believe it. So I have to trust my gut when it tells me that I can sculpt a masterpiece out of this steamy pile of dog shit I call a novel.
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