I secretly started writing the book this summer. I thought it would come together on its own so I didn’t bother with an outline or plan. Big mistake. After about ten pages, I gave up what turned out to be a fruitless exercise in freewriting, printed out what I wrote, and burned it with my childhood baseball card collection.
Four months later I decided to try again, but in a smarter way. I spent about six weeks working on a detailed outline which was completed last month. I’ve narrowed it down to these chapters:
- Introduction – typical “how I got here” spiel
- Internal game – I replace your beta beliefs with alpha ones and erase your bullshit cultural programming
- Early game – approach, early closes
- Mid game – phone game, dating
- Late game – sex, maintenance
- Specific game – dealing with special situations
- End game – transcendence
My goal is to keep the organization as simple as possible.
This shit is hard. The more I write the more I remember to add more topics. So really each time I write I’m getting farther from the end. It’s impossible to make a dent. To get one hour of solid writing done I need to block out about three hours of time because of my short attention span problems. I’m never going to be able to finish. THIS IS SUCKING THE LIFE BLOOD OUT OF ME.
Hopefully I will be finished with an edited draft by Spring. I’ve moved to the boonies (Gaithersburg) where I’m far from human contact and I have given up pretty much everything — including showers — to make time for writing. It’s ironic that to finish this book I need to give up a life that was needed to write it in the first place.
I don’t care if this book sells well or not. I feel a new chapter on my life coming up so I need to close this one out with something written. I want something more to show for the last five years other than a huge collection of porn.