funnnnnnnnny funnyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

It all started when I was born at a very young age. The nurse took one look at me and said, “Well, this one’s going to write nonsense someday.” The prophecy was true. By age five, I had mastered the art of eating glue sticks, drawing stick figures with three arms, and accidentally locking myself in closets. A creative genius in the making. By age ten, I had a black belt in exaggeration, a PhD in complaining, and a minor in avoiding homework. By thirteen, I had developed a highly refined sense of humor — meaning I thought saying “butt” loudly in class was the peak of comedy. (Spoiler: I still do.) The Writing Process: Or, How I Spent 3 Years Avoiding Work Writing this book took dedication, caffeine, procrastination, and an unhealthy relationship with snack foods. I wrote in coffee shops, libraries, bathrooms, under desks, and once in a blanket fort with nothing but a pen, a flashlight, and hope. Every day I sat down, opened my laptop, and said, “Today I will write something brilliant.” And every day, I spent four hours watching videos of raccoons stealing cat food. That’s the writer’s life. You don’t understand true despair until you’ve deleted the same sentence seventeen times and still think, “What if I just replaced it with ‘poop’?