I HATE MY LIFE

UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

So, I've heard about this "collective consciousness" of pop culture. It's what causes things like multiple movies coming out at the same time that are basically the same film but had nothing to do with each other in production. This is the first time I've ever been a victim of it in an obvious way.

I mean, my problem isn't that extreme. I didn't write a whole novel and realize it had been written already. And in fact, my problem may seem pretty superficial. I have a children's book I wrote called the Clockwork Prince. It's about 500 words, enough to fill a 32-page picture book.

There is a young adult fantasy novel, the second in a trilogy, called Clockwork Prince.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Fuck you, Cassandra Clare. You're fat and ginger and you ruined Jace Wayland*.

My fiancee suggested changing the title. I don't really like this because there's...honestly nothing else to call my book. It is about a prince made of glass and wax and silver clockwork. I'm not gonna say any more than that because this isn't like a novel where I can tell you the plot and there's no consequences, if I tell you the plot you can basically write the book yourself and sell it, and I don't want you to. But everyone who's read it has really liked it and said it's touching with some cool imagery. So, there's that.

Ugh. Fuck my life.


*Only one of these insults is meant with earnestness, and even then only a little, because I only read the one book. Stop googling yourself, Cassandra Clare, and please don't blacklist me from the publishing industry. I don't know what kind of voodoo powers Real Writers get.