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A blog about
writing a book


10 January 2018

It is already 2018 and time seems to go faster. It costs me less and less trouble to write.

Roughly the book has quite a bit of volume. I am amazed about it. The pages have all been checked once, and then again. It starts to look like a piece of manuscript.

I have already taken quite a few thresholds by writing what I wrote. It is authentic, raw and real. It is suffocating, in the imagination and in experience, but I am not there yet. Again I have to read through all pages and adjust them, even more striking and concise. Again thousands of words are deleted or moved, looking for the right words for better understanding of the essence.

Ben Zeus comes by for a consultation and a party. We discuss the quality and progress. How long will it take if I am here after almost two years? The quality and essence is clear and the writing errors are not the problem. The style is still consistent and challenging. The style has been approved.

The question remains: When is it finished?

“Ready, in the sense of getting a few people to read something”. I estimate August 2018, so another seven months.

After the summer holiday the synopsis will have to be drawn up.

There are about fifteen people who are reading along. People also get hooked off because they are tired of having to read the same thing all the time. I do not blame them, of course. The criticisms are better, people are now really convinced that this story arrives and that they would certainly buy it.

I am on the right track. I am not at all.

So far I have written about the transports and an airport, about Dakovo and Ivanka. My readers already find it intense. They experience it, are upset, angry and impressed. The disadvantage is that readers sometimes find it difficult to separate fiction and non-fiction. They even sometimes experience anger towards me, the author. They acknowledge themselves that it is not right, but they still experience it.

I can not write a false book.

Only because I actually did it, this book can be written. The monster is the truth and the book is the truth. Unfortunately, I can not make anything else out of it. It were my eyes who saw it and it were my hands that grabbed. It can not be otherwise that Management sacrifices me.

I will have to write it honestly. I got that task. The reality nobody knows and where several people suspect me of knowing too much about it. Logically, it’s my behavior and of course I know that reality as my pocket and with my eyes closed. I value Google for the outside world of information.

Because of the label, I categorically deny any personal involvement.

By describing it I recognize the honest reality for myself. Everyone somewhere deep within themselves would not be surprised if it turned out that I would indeed have something to do with a transport. It is now only about the real exponential superlative of that.

The mindset must be good for that, because family and environment do not exist. I must dare to be honest. As soon as that is mentally correct, I can travel back again, experience it again and take it to this reality.

It is still the moment and the courage to actually acknowledge it with writing.

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