I finished my book. Well, I wrote the ending and felt okay about it. Unfortunately it’s only about 48,000 words and should be about 70,000 to be worth something. But I printed out all existing 136 pages at FedEx and am now going through it and adding notes where I could add more stuff and also correcting words where it was obvious I wrote deliriously way past my bedtime.
When I wasn’t doing that, I realized while we were entering invoices and payments into Quickbooks wrong yesterday, so now I have to re-do everything. I really feel like Tibetan Fox is just as not sure about my life choices as I am.
I think in my next novel I write as a business owner who murders Quickbooks in its sleep. I don’t think anyone will come looking for me, as the portly police sheriff will be like, “Well, he had it comin’. Why can’t you determine the data that gets imported from .iif files?” and an even portlier Glenda from Accounting will let out a bubbly, maniacal laugh and say, “Gosh golly, I’ve dreamed about doing that for a while! Quickbooks knows I hate it when it makes me edit a transaction before I delete it!”
The Devil’s Advocate will be a tax preparer named Steve, who will try to tell everyone that Quickbooks really does make everything more organized. He goes missing. Glenda killed him.
Boom. Best seller.
Kelsey Jones
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