Proof copy in hand. Red pen out. Beta readers circling. This book’s a risky one, fractured timelines, testimonies, and media scraps stitched into a story I hope makes sense outside my skull.
Hit a wall, and tore it down. After finalizing layout and hitting the halfway point in edits for Pejorative, I circled back to Chapter One and knew it had to go.
May dressed up as November. Damp chill, grey skies, and the scent of fall. I stayed knee-deep in Chapter 20 edits while coffee pulled double duty, fuel and hand warmer. The world spun loud, but I stayed quiet. Some weeks, discipline isn’t loud. It’s just the act of showing up. One page. One fix. One sentence straighter than the last.
