Two days remain, or maybe three, I'm not sure. I write this from the end of an all-nighter - my first since college, my first at McSweeney's. A book needed finishing, and only closers get coffee. I was johnny on the spot - just walked into work at 5 in the evening, having spent the day telecommuting at home, with a quick spin over to the gym. 24 Hour Fitness charged me a couple dozen arm legs as an entrance fee - I intend to earn it back in muscle tone gained. At the very least, I might regain some of my lung capacity.
The book needed finishing by dawn. Proofreading. Giving the chapters titles that were whimsical yet informative. Factchecking. Grammar. Page numbers. The book is an anthology, a how-to guide for memoirists with advice from the key practitioners of the art. I've read practically the whole book, now - exhortations of where to start, where to finish, how you write and when and where, with whom or without anyone but yourself and your pen, or laptop.
I can feel it about to happen. I have far too much work to do this week, two job possibilities I need to explore. My roommate is gone - I must guard the castle alone. I have miles to go. But I must. I will. I can. Hopefully. So sleepy.
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