So here’s the thing about The Fall:

I wrote it knowing where I was going with the story, but I couldn’t get from about a third of the way through it to the middle. I skipped that bit and kept going, and the second half of the book wrote itself. Now I have to go back and fill in what I skipped. And therein lies the problem: in the second half, I wrote myself out of a corner that I can’t seem to write myself into.

*scribble* *scribble* *writes an outline* *head-desk*

Half of me is screaming, “I CAN’T DO THIS!” and the other half is wondering if sticky notes will help. (With the plotting, not the screaming — I see those evil grins!) Eventually, I’m sure, I’ll figure it out and it will be terribly clever, at least to me (please be kind!). This particular bit of reading time might very well take me weeks to write, at the rate I’m going.

Today, however, I’m banging my head on my keyboard and demanding that my husband (not-a-writer, but makes to-die-for garlic potato bread) tell me what happens next.

I think I should probably go to the gym.