When I started writing this thing, I would finish each chapter and hand it out to friends, hoping their possible enthusiasm would spur me on into the right direction. For some reason the idea did not backfire. I relished the opportunity to write the next piece of the story, just to see what people might say about it.
Not so, these days.
I stopped sending it out once I got deeper and deeper. It’s not quite a quagmire, the middle of a novel, but certainly a swampy door to woodland. There are lights here which beg to guide you. A brilliant glare to blind your rusty compass.
Do not follow the lights!–They are pixies, here to lead you to your doom. Use them wisely. I myself will them crush them between my palms for food.
I have so much more to say.