And every now and then I forget I'm reading my own book - just for a second I'll forget - and I think: This person gets it. Somebody understands. Someone has perfectly captured the way I feel.
And then I go, damn, I wrote this book. And I feel kind of crappy that I've put so much of myself in a novel that is about something so distant from my own experience. But then I also feel okay. I feel a lot of things. I hope that I have a clone somewhere who will read it and think, hey, somebody gets it.
You guys. You're missing out. Being Steph Bowe is probably the strangest and most weirdly wonderful thing ever.
Sometimes I worry I've put too much in this book and it still isn't enough. Sometimes I worry I have no good stories left in me, and I never did to begin with.
God I hate these sometimes.
Anyway, I'm doing schoolwork and working on the next novel and just being generally stressed out. Yourself?
What are you writing, right now? How are you going?