Handcuffs, Broken Crowns, and Botox

“I now have an oral surgeon consult later today that I am dreading like the damn plague because I already know how expensive this will be, and I’ve been working my a** off so I can finally get my Botox done.”

The book this week didn’t get the love it deserves, but don’t worry — I have excuses that are legit.

We had a long weekend of volleyball travel, during which a crown decided to stage a dramatic exit somewhere on a Montana highway, and an emergency dental consult that introduced me to the words extraction and implant are now a thing. Rude.

Chapters 10 and 11. Done. That leaves 8 chapters left standing in phase two of this sweep. I am so close I can taste it. And not in a dental implant way.

Can we talk about chapter titles for a second? Because I think they’re funny as hell:

“Golden Handcuffs (But Not in a Dirty Way)”

“Climbing Stairs Sucks (But Makes Your Ass Look Great)”

I genuinely hope that when you get this damn book in your hands, you laugh your ass off. I think I’m funnier in the written word than in person — can anyone else relate? My sense of humor makes absolutely no sense. I will laugh in a completely silent movie theatre when no one else does. I also Google the mirror or the artwork hanging in a specific scene because I noticed it, and now I need it. And I say out loud what most people are only thinking.

Blessing or a curse? I’m going with both.

The week was shorter than usual to cram everything into. And for the record, I love Montana. I love that I have to stop on backroads for tractors, and then we’re doing 100mph on the highway like it’s nothing.

Speaking of which, Josey and I had to pull over to clean bugs off the windshield because I genuinely could not see. Apparently, when you go that fast in early Spring, bugs get extra splattery. It was about 2.5 hours into an 8.5-hour drive, while I was aggressively eating Mambas, trying to stay awake when the stupid crown broke.

FML. Please don’t hurt, please don’t hurt. That was the whole prayer.

I now have an oral surgeon consult later today that I am dreading like the damn plague because I already know how expensive this will be, and I’ve been working my a** off so I can finally get my Botox done. Apparently, the universe had other plans. So I will stay looking weathered another month or 3. Rude.

This is what building something looks like, by the way. Not the green juice and morning routine weeks. The crown-on-a-Montana-highway weeks. The you-need-a-dental-implant-instead-of-Botox weeks.

The weeks where you squeeze the work in wherever it fits, and it somehow flows like sweet honey anyway.

I’ve always wondered if being the person who says what everyone else is thinking is a gift or a problem. I think the book is starting to answer that question for me. Because the chapters that are the most honest — the ones where I said the quiet part loud — are the ones that are going to make you feel seen.

Or at the very least, make you feel better about your own week.

Which honestly? Is the whole point.

Still becoming. Still not resolved. Still here. 🤍

MANUSCRIPT STATS

 📖 19 chapters. All enriched. Check.

✅ Phase 2 sweep: Chapters 1–11 done.

🔄 8 chapters left standing.

📝 Enriched word count (1–11): 35,726 | Full manuscript: ~55k

🎯 Publishing direction: Traditional. Target shelf. Not negotiating.

👀 Agent research: Holding. Sweep first.