Day three.
Make me some money, books. Let's go.
The little t-shirt business is suddenly everywhere. The New Yorker has mentioned it. Entertainment Weekly's picked it up. People are tweeting.
Makes you wonder if there's more real money to be made in fiction than anywhere else. But I suppose that's not all that different than the convoluted narratives and manipulated frames of reference that allowed the sub-prime mortgage scandal to make (then break) more than a few millionaires.
I am staring at my novel. Figuratively. The barrel of a gun. Histrionically & figuratively.
Today, I will write something.
Something not this.
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