-In which a paparazzi does something stupid The problem, Trent decided, was Jamie-T’s vicious little smile. He was no stranger to this sort of thing. He could’ve looked past all the blow, the shitty loud music. He could’ve even looked past the young girl’s crying. Of all the things he’d ever been called, a saint sure as fuck wasn’t one of them. But then this loser piece of trash kept… Fucking… Smiling. She kept crying,…
This is something of an experiment I’d like to try. One of the books I’ve been toiling over– much more slowly than I’d originally anticipated, though that’s par for the course for moi, really– has been this fucker right here. Dragonkiller. I could spend a couple years bashing this thing together, putting it out there, dismaying as only a few friends and my mother pick it up– Or I could get wild! Crazy! FUNKY! Dragonkiller…
So! Here it is. Was. Whatever. My first book. It’s been a half-dozen years and change now, and while I’m not without appreciation for the experience, let’s be honest here– this fucker could’ve been considerably better. It needed a few more passes in the editing process, first in foremost. Both for copyediting and for the purposes of tightening up the story. There are still some things in there to this day that make me cringe…
