by Shelt Garner
Now that the Trump Administration is simply snatching people off the street, the rage I have against it that is helping me develop and write this novel grows ever more powerful. Also, my general belief that Trump is never leaving office for any reason seems ever more accurate and, as such, the idea that at some point early in his ill-gotten second term people are going to want to read an allegorical take on this fucked up era seems ever more accurate as well.
So, I’m going to bifurcate this weekend — if I’m not developing and writing, I’m reading. If I’m not reading, I’m developing and writing.
I hope to wrap up the tactical development of my next chapter no later than the end of this weekend. I have a rhythm now and so that — combined with my white hot rage against the Trump Administration — things are really moving along.
As I’ve said before, my rage against the Trump Administration is meant to be so diffused in this novel that you won’t really notice it. You should be able to read the novel if your conservative and not really have an issue with it. There are some existential parts of the plot that you may quibble with, but I’m not changing them.
Anyway, there is still so much that could go wrong. I feel very much like a first time father, worried about my unborn child. All I can do is give this thing all my genetic information and hope for the best. This novel is very personal and specific, but as things like Fleabag show, that’s often something that people find appealing.
I have a lot of work to do.