I will never finish this fucking thing

An innocuous message last night from Lili:

How’s the Livi book?

Still stabbing it?

At this point it’s not so much that I’m stabbing as I’m lying in a pool of my own blood on the floor while the book looks on triumphantly.

“Writing a book is like The Bride vs The Crazy 88s/O Ren Ishii fight, except I’m stuck at the Gogo part,” I explained, which of course got me thinking of an old blog post from several years ago on my long-dead site.

So I’ve pulled it out for your perusal. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to write a book, look no further than the latter half of Kill Bill Vol I.

At first, it’s kinda fun. I start with a bang by lopping off someone’s limb.

Hear that, book? Oh, you are going DOWN, bitch.

So the book throws some minions at me. I make short work of them, still with lots of energy.

Then it gets a little tougher.

I fight and fight and think it’s going to defeat me, but I win. My training has kicked in, you see–all the hours I spent writing, rewriting, thinking, writing some more, defeating other books, being taught by Pai Mei. And I do, after all, have a Hattori Hanzo keyboard. I pick up my sword to finally slay the fucking thing.

And then something clicks in my brain–though I think I’m doing well, I hear the other plot points and characters veering off path. (Head to 4:00)

Story: “You didn’t think it was gonna be that easy, did you?”

Me: “You know, for a second there? Yeah. I kinda did.”

And then I battle the Crazy 88s only there really are eighty-eight of them and they nearly slaughter me.

Eventually I make it to the end where the fucking book trash talks me.

I’m bleeding, beaten, exhausted, but eventually show the book who’s boss. And the book apologizes, usually during the last chapter during a late-night 10K writing marathon, ready to admit defeat.