Well, now come the most painful part of any writing process; face my lack of a complete grasp on the english language, forget any stupid pride and say out loud:

No, seriously. This has been the reaction to My Deadly Shot so far:

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Oh, carajo.

I finally f*cking finished the damn chapter. Here it is, it's over. This is it, my entry for my very first contest as a writer:

Deadshot #2. Unbreakable, untouchable. Impossible!

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La Santa Catarina, chibirin chibirin bom bom
La Santa Catarina, chibirin chibirin bom bom

Oh, and today's progress:
Deadshot #2. Unbreakable, untouchable. Impossible!
password: boom_headshot

Four days! FOUR! DAYS!

And I only have this for the second half!

I need a bloody beer. No, scratch that. I need to go to three different bars and drink them dry.

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Well, first of all, I would like to take the proper time to thank all those wonderful people/ponies/bots/whatever that helped and supported me during the making of this fic so far:

To all of you: You have been, and always shall be, my friend.

Diamond dust

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This is it, the final week. More MUSIC!

So, I took the first couple of steps on getting this fiction published on time for the contest.
1: Finish the first chapter.

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Okay, drama's over, sh*t happens, douches exist and it happens that I have a nice lot of wonderful friends. End of the story. Let's get to work. MUSIC!

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Yesterday, in the last blogpost, I said that my minds wasn't even near to writing. I also promised to explain myself today.

The thing is, that recently I had an argument with a good friend. He asked some things of Centro and South America (he's USAer and I'm Chilean) for a book he's writing. I threw an offhanded commentary of how prone are Latin Americans to mistrust USAers in politics and he took it very bad.

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Here's the new material:

In the train station I buy a book, as usual. No, I'm not a scholar pony, but that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy a book or two between shots. I've already read all the classics; The Divine Comedy, Don Rocinante, Hamlet, One Hundred Years of Solitude. I suppose is my way to escape reality from once in a while.

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Well, today has been one of those days, when everything got itself locked in place and cold down to the absolute zero. I haven't written any scene, no character backstory, hell! I can't even think in tropes by this point.

My mind is blank, there's nothing inside it, if I where versed in Buddhism instead of Catholicism I could reach nirvana for the state of total nothingness that my mind achieved today.

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