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You know, there’s something about hitting the last third of a book, even a very first drafty draft of a book like this one, that makes my brain go a little crazy.

Normal people do not wander around the supermarket doing page count calculations in their heads much like this:

Crazy brain: 120 pages to go. If you write six pages a day that’s only three weeks or so.
Me: Yes, I can do math.
Crazy brain: Oooh, oooh, if you write 10 pages a day, you could finish it in twelve days.
Me: Unlikely but also true.
Crazy brain: Or, how about fifteen pages a day…that’s only (pauses for complicated mental arithmetic) eight days.
Me: Didn’t I just say 10 pages a day was unlikely? I really don’t quite know what happens yet.
Crazy brain: Irrelevant.
Me: I don’t think pages a day count if all they contain is “I don’t know what happens here” typed over and over.
Crazy brain: Says who – oh and look over there. Chocolate.
Me: We’re avoiding sugar, remember?
Crazy brain: Then don’t blame me for being crazy. How about twenty pages a day and you’d finish it this week?
Me: I have a day job. I pay your bills. Not gonna happen.
Crazy brain: So? Imagine, book all finished and shiny.
Me: Not gonna be pretty and shiny if I write it in six days.
Crazy brain: Pouts. We could do it if you fed us chocolate? Chocolate makes you write faster.
Me: What do I have to feed you to get you to stop with the calculations already?

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