I’m down in the weeds, trying to interject the perfect fifty words somewhere into the last third of Boggle and Sneak, to clarify a plot point that has stumped a couple of readers. I feel about eight inches tall, pretty much like the creatures in the story.
I spent most of the day blocking out a sequence in which our contestants try to track a gang of rogue librarians from Belarus who are trying to sell a shipment of library materials on the black market in contravention of international bibliographic-proliferation agreements.
When the caffeine wore off, I became convinced that I don’t have the draft of a book; I have a bunch of disconnected scenes in a sack. Rachel and I then spent an hour sitting outside Broders’ Southside Pasta Bar brainstorming how best to bond the scenes together.
Presumably this was just my regularly-scheduled second-act crisis. I am now standing up to go schedule next month’s panic attack on our family calendar.