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Mistakes Were Made (A Pygmalion Fail Book 2)

Page 14

by Casey Matthews

To Be Continued in

  A Pygmalion Fail, Book 3: Only Broken Things Are Free

  Coming September 2016

  Did you like this story? Excellent. You can help me write more by sending me a quarter-million dollars. If you don’t have a quarter-million dollars, consider leaving a review or telling other people about my work. Maybe one of them will have a quarter-million dollars. You never know.

  Meanwhile, you can follow me on Twitter @CenterFringe or check out that thing I refer to as a website at www.caseymatthews.org. Not “.com,” mind you, though last I checked the “.com” Casey Matthews also had some pretty cool stuff too, so maybe check her out and then me.

  Acknowledgments

  The romanticized writer locked away in her room, all alone with ink and page, is something of a myth, and for two good reasons: first, while all the writing parts really are lonely, there’s nothing romantic about it. And second, there is no real “all alone” once you decide to publish. It is humbling to know that, in many ways, this work is not solely my own. It belongs also to the following people:

  My parents, I guess, who are primarily to blame. The fact I’m doing this instead of lawyering for tons of money is actually directly my dad’s fault, since he threatened to murder me with a chainsaw if I ever went to law school. Oh, and Mom, who took me to the town paperback book shop to meet her writer friends—Sherry, Gloria, and Laura—who had years to corrupt me.

  To Katie, who is perfect in every way, except (of course) that she chooses to spend time with me each day. She is my emotional and spiritual support in a world full of monstrous, moving things I don’t entirely trust.

  To Emily, who went before me and lit the way. A better friend I could not possess. That we despise all the same philistines does help. Check her out at www.menyoral.com, because her elves are full of sparkle, rage, and all that lovely stuff.

  To all the Scriptorati, who were more than just beta readers. A literary conscience was once described by Bryan Caplan as an imagined reader who alters your writing based on how they would feel about your work. I’ve had several for these books.

  To the Dragon Rocketship—that merry band of villains.

  To my cover artist, Akira007. I’ve never met him, but when Fiverr says “recommended, 5-star artist,” holy shit, they aren’t kidding.

  Reserved for last because of how honored I have been working with him: I must acknowledge John Hart, my editor, who took me on when I had but pennies. His skill and passion made this work not only better, but possible. You may find him at www.johntheeditor.com, or if not, then wielding the hammer Mjölnir, of which he is surely worthy.

 

 

 


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