How the HELL did I manage to write an additional 10k words for my novel these past few weeks?!

I guess doing bits and pieces here and there helps, it all adds up after a while, but sonofabitch! I had kind of settled at the fact that my novel was going to meander at 75k but it looks like I'm going to get close to hitting 100k by the summer-- because I'm not fucking done yet!

From that point... I don't know what. Stuart Hill has offered to edit it again, so that's great, but do I try and get it published? Or do I publish it off my own back? I'll see what he thinks.

I see all these people I know doing print on demand runs of their work, and I think that it's cheating, perhaps because a) they've not had to be rejected, or b) because I've not done it yet. It's like masturbation. It's like squeezing one off and thinking you're God even though you've achieved something that everyone else can do.

Options, options.

Fuck.

It's coming back to me, isn't it? The flow of it all?