Wrote a ton yesterday. Completed the book's climax, which was a blast to write. Then I got in a hurry and tried to whip out the final chapter.
It's bad. So rushed and genuinely crap-tacular that I'm deleting the thing completely and praying it will never be resurrected from its component electrons and brought back to the light.
I always do this. I get so eager to reach the most blessed words in the English language (The End) that I spew out complete dreck in an attempt to get there. The problem is, this book, its characters, and its readers deserve better.
So it's back to the salt mines until I get it right.
Wish me luck.
