Dear World

Please Kill Me,

Greetings, tenants of the fifth accord (I don’t know what it means either. Just go with it). So *checks ego -at door, I may have swung for the fences and forgot to pick up a bat.

In my own excitement and anticipation for my novel , this writer may have overestimated the girth of time that perfection takes. About a week ago I sought to complete the (I don’t know, fifth?) draft of Becoming Utopia (my novel, dude read the blog). Despite minor technical errors , I was damned proud of the “finished” product.

*Spoiler alert -going Full Diva. Then I made the awful mistake of watching the news. For those who don’t know, the premise, and/or, over all jumping point for the novel is the current state of politics -problem being that I began writing it, just about a year ago. Needless to say, the state of politics has drastically changed.

This kind of blew chunks, because my intent was to introduce the story (conceptually), as close to the current political climate as possible, and therefore what was fact -is no longer. Me being the asshole I am, I couldn’t help myself, and decided to rewrite the beginning.

Never fear, that part I got done, however that was this morning. To be honest it wasn’t until , just a few hours ago I realized that the new beginning slightly changes the tone. I believe it’s for the better, but as all of you have probably guessed, I now have to traverse the book a few more times ( for flow, plot holes, continuity – shit like that).

This isn’t an overhaul, and trust me it’s no where near the massive delay some of you might expect. You have my word that I’ll put my nose to the grindstone and get this done for you, all I ask is patience, and hey if this makes you at all annoyed, don’t worry. I’ve already come up with a plan to reward you not busting my balls. (Pssst it’s cocaine.)

Okay not really. But how excited were you for a second? Seriously don’t fret, Papa’s gonna take care of you.

So until it’s done, that’s what has my full attention. You’ll have it as soon as it’s all purdy and gift wrapped.

Hey even God took seven days. I think that entitles me to a bit more time.

Until my fingers bleed,

-Antwan Crump.

P.S. Yea Dave, you told me so.