the curse of cakewalks

I have been working on this book for six months. I though it was going to be easy.

Never, ever think a book will be easy. It's like thinking the guy you just met is going to be the one you marry. Inevitably, he will sleep with your best friend and steal your wallet.

Anyhow, I finally finished the first draft and went back and discovered that those first hundred pages that had given me such hell the first time around, they rewrote themselves.

Ha! That was easy. So the rest of the revision is going to be A cakewalk, I figured.

Don't ever say that. Saying any part of a revision is going to be cakewalk is the equivalent of saying some guy you met is going to be your one-and-only. Then he sleeps with your best friend and your mom and he steals your wallet and your dog. You just don't tempt fate like that.

The middle section. It is so bad.

How do you all feel about reading the first third and last third of a book? Just skipping the middle? No one likes the middles anyhow.

No? Boy, you are demanding. Fine. Back to the mines for me then.

Also, in the theme of yesterday's what-does-a-gauntlet-thrown-down-look-like exploration, today I'm wondering what an actual cakewalk looks like. Here is what I came up with:

Not exactly sure how that's a cakewalk, but it is a far more appealing image. Cakewalk stays in the stable of overused Gayle-isms!