My sister woke me up this morning because I was supposed to read her the next chapter in the story. Luckily she’d just gotten off work and felt tired so she gave me an extension ‘til she woke.

I’d much rather have gone back to sleep, but no amount of bodily readjustment could get me back there.  So…I got up, pulled out the notebook (did I neglect to mention that I’m writing this behemoth longhand?) and wrote the next chapter.

Random Uninteresting Fact: the chapter I wrote today had the exact number of words as the previous chapter. And I wasn’t even trying.

When I finished, Multiple Idea Syndrome struck me down momentarily. After I came ‘round, my story’s ending had completely changed, my characters suddenly had layers, and I was a little bit more in love with my project.

Oh, and somehow it decided it needed a companion. For now I’ll let Book 2 take care of itself.

I know I’ve said it before, that I have six (or maybe eleven) unfinished manuscripts trapped in a cobwebbed Banker’s Box cluttering up my office closet.

I know that I’ve tormented my sister with countless stories of which she’ll (probably) never know the end.

But this time will be different. For really.

Come hell or high water, this novel will be written.

How can I be so certain? I’ve started a blog. I have told the world about this endeavor which makes me accountable (to the whole 1.2 people who will likely ever read this).

I’m not even sure why this is so hard a task because I’ve already done it before…and I was only 12 then. OK, the writing was crap and the plot was clichéd, but at least I finished.

So, yeah, hell or high water.