Final Stretch. Part Two.
Hair = Gross.
Food = Down to applesauce, frozen spinach, and ice cream, followed by gnawing on my own leg.
Cats = Frightened of hair, and making peculiar noises in the kitchen.
Poodle = Hanging in there.
I don�t know about other writers, but when I�m towards the end of writing a book, I am completely unfit for human companionship. Like, I pretty much stop bathing and I can�t speak in complex sentences anymore.
This is pathetic, but true. It�s a good thing I write books in short intense bursts. When I hear about authors who take a year or more to write their books, I�m like, Wow. That�s a long time to go without washing your hair.
For the welfare of others, I try to avoid human contact when I am at this stage of one of my books.
And other humans know to avoid me, as well. It really is safer that way.