Sigh. I am so close - yet so far - from finishing my book. I approach the end like train pulling into the station. Moving. Halting. Groaning. Screeching. Then moving again, oh-so-slowly.

This morning started out promisingly. Fresh and optimistic from a miraculous 12 hours of sleep, I bounded up to my nearby coffee house to rewrite (for the fifth f*cking time), the final ill-fated date scene of a book packed with ill-fated dates. One couldn't blame me if I am, perhaps, a bit tired of writing about ill-fated dates - but I started out with a good attitude today.

But I forgot - conveniently! - how hard it is to write a rough draft. How discouraging it is to be writing a rough draft of anything so late in the game! But this scene had to change. Because up until now, the final ill-fated romance of the book has been boring as hell. And it needs to be funny, damn it! It needs to be the crowning glory of ill-fated dates. This guy has to be the biggest loser of them all, yet charming enough to make the heroine fall for him, until finally, finally - he proves himself SUCH a loser that her common sense kicks in. And she learns how to stand on her own two feet at last. (Until the next guy comes along!)

But that's a lot of pressure, people. Writing this whole final section of the book, where everything picks up speed, gets more serious yet also funnier, where everything is at stake, where the heroine has to learn from her mistakes - it's hard! MY LIFE IS SO HARD.

There. Do you feel sorry for me now? Can you tell I'm just procrastinating from writing the final-ill fated date scene? It's actually going better now than it was half an hour ago. I do say, I pity the boy that this character is based on (I won't tell you who it is.). It's going to hurt his manhood just a little. He was almost going to escape my book unscathed, but he has many too inspiring comic traits. Perhaps he'll be happy just to be famous.

Meanwhile, the Celebrity if off on tour and I miss him. That's the problem with celebrities, they do things like go off on tour. Once upon a time, I thought my life was fast-paced but no more. I've seen fast-paced. And it scares me. Mostly because I wonder if it leaves enough room for me. Me me me! Though as GalPal #3 just pointed out, "If this guy had enough time for you, you'd probably be bored by him."

Hmm.

Time shall tell, I suppose. Meanwhile, I'm never going to be a celebrity myself if I don't finish this f*cking scene.