Welcome to Bootcamp, soldier. You will hate me by the time this is over, but deep in your lazy, pathetic heart, you’ll also thank me.
I see by your record you wrote a book last year. And one the year before.
Who the hell cares? Look around you. You see all these people sweating over their novels? You see them losing sleep, downing sugar and caffeine just to get another 100 words squeezed in? They’re writing a novel each year, too.
And you know what? They have jobs. Classes. Small children. Spouses who aren’t doing this with them. What’s your job, soldier? What do you do every day?
Oh, you’re a writer. I get it. You stay home all day to write because your husband makes it possible. For your career. Sure.