A Day in My Life

Wrote about seven hours since Thursday. Deleted an entire chapter, restarted it. Sucks because it slows me down but kicks ass because my book won't blow. Wow, that was a great sentence, huh? I can totally see Hemingway writing something like that.

Four blogs have agreed to review my book so far. Plus, I've been invited to the UGA author reception, where they will actually have my book for sale. Annnnddd I've been invited to take place in a Battle of the Books type bracket. Plus, the promo at the end of the month--which I'll announce soon.

I figured I'd give a day in my life right now, so you can all see how pathetic I am.

4:55 AM: Wake up and immediately think that ending my life would be preferable to waking up this early.

4:57 AM: Turn off alarm. Grab tablet. Check Facebook and email, because that shit is what is important in life, right?

5:00 AM: Dress in the shortest shorts I can and a cut off shirt. 

5:15 AM: Arrive in gym looking like I shop for shorts at Baby Gap and that my arms have never seen the sun. Ever.

5:30 AM: Grunt as I throw weight up.

5:45 AM: Finishing getting beastly. I have never had sex last as long as this workout does.

6:00 AM: Make twelve cups of coffee. Would gladly use drugs other than caffeine if they were legal and cheaper. Watch my dog glare at me because I know he has to piss.

6:01 AM: Begin writing.

6:15 AM: Think about quitting writing forever.

6:45 AM: Realize previous thought was horrible because I have been endowed with Ron Jeremy Legendary Status in the realm of writing.

7:!5 AM: Contemplate deleting the entire book.

7:45 AM: Finish writing. My brain is drained, my muscles are already beginning to become sore, and my roommates are finally waking up. My day has finally begun.

8:30 AM: With my dog still hating me but having pissed, I leave for school.

9:00 AM - 5 PM: I go to class and study. I make fun of people as much as possible as this brings me great joy. I get made fun of by people of lesser status than me and this brings me infinite sadness because I cannot harm them. I will most definitely anger at least one professor, perhaps two if I'm on that day. I have more on days than off days.

5 PM: Leave school wondering why I didn't just skip and write the whole day.

5:15 PM: Talk to my girlfriend who reminds me she likes nice things and I need to be able to buy them for her and am then reminded why I did not skip school and write--because I will always be poor as a writer.

5: 30 PM: Arrive home to more glares from my dog, Tucker. He hates me. He should. I am a horrible owner. I walk him. He is happy for a moment. I bring him back in; he hates me again.

6:00 PM: I market Dead Religion. This means I beg anyone I know, and a whole lot more people I don't know to read my book, review my book, and tell others about my book. There is nothing glamorous about this. At the end of each of these sessions I remind myself that I should quit writing, take my book offline, and probably cut my fingers off just to make sure I never do this to myself again.

7:00 PM: My fourteen hour day has ended. I am exhausted. My girlfriend is angry I haven't listened to her day. My dog is angry I haven't walked him more. My roommates are angry I haven't cleaned enough. My group members at school are mad I haven't done more and go to bed at 8 PM so they cannot call or text me after that time. I have made not a single person happy and have destroyed my body and mind.

8:00 PM: I get in bed. I read authors, who 80% of the time are about 100% worse than me but yet millionaires. There are exceptions to this, but they are so rare I want to rub sandpaper across my eyeballs most nights. 

9:00 PM: I fall asleep.

There you have. 16 hours all accounted for in the pathetic life of a newly published author with no fan base. If you ever think you have it bad, just come read this. 

At least 10 people will not commit suicide after reading how pathetic I am. I'm glad I've been able to help some.