coming up on the end

I started making notes for the manuscript of The Mungk today. I figure I have about two weeks before a workable version can go out into the world, blasted out of my literary womb like so much flotsam.

And if that appeals to you, well, then fuck. I don’t know what to tell you, weirdo. Birth is horrific and traumatic.

Of course, I wrote it so what does that say about me?

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