17997208-brain-intelligence-discovery-with-a-human-brain-shape-made-of-stars-and-planets-in-a-space-beckgroun…getting back into my WIP. I’ve been in merchandizing mode all summer with my two Finny Aletter mysteries, Scavenger Hunt and Obstacle Course, and my brain is skipping across a meadow of clever ploys to interest an indifferent Web. How many times can I artfully mention the titles before I’m shunned by all and sundry? Sigh.

However, my A Signal Shown manuscript is sitting beside me and it needs to be finished. How lovely it would be to see how the story ends so I can stop wondering about it.  And afterward I’d have a shiny new opportunity to write the third Wisdom Court novel, a prospect filling me with both excitement and raw terror. I’ve not had enough energy for such visceral emotions during this summer of the slug.

How, oh, how can I gracefully–or even awkwardly–transition from sales whore to dedicated creator of immortal fiction? Well…here’s my plan. Ostensibly, I’m merely nattering to my hardy band of followers, but if I keep moving my fingers over the keys, magic will happen. That tiny ember of creativity lodged somewhere in my brain stem will burst forth–or even fifth–to release the words hovering near the ember.  It’s getting crowded in there, so the phrases will come tumbling through the synapses, down my spine, stampeding into both arms, thundering out through my always-moving fingers.

Any minute now.


I’m going to have to actually work on this thing, aren’t I? I’ll need to stop fiddle-farting around and reread the manuscript. I’ll find the inevitable typos and will enter corrections, and that will lead to thinking of better ways to say what’s on the page.  Then, God help me, I’ll get that nasty urge to cut a paragraph or two, just to prove I can kill my darlings. I hate that part. But I’ll do it, and that pathetic pile of what used to be my writer’s ego will show signs of revival. There’s nothing like the blood of dead descriptions and defunct characters to get that bastard pulsing again.

So now I’m off to find an illustration of the brain so all of you can see where the process begins, because I wouldn’t want there to be any confusion about it. That won’t take long, just a bit of trolling on the Web, and then I’ll start reading…wait, I’ll have to find my red pen. It’s around here somewhere; I saw it this morning.  Okay, got it.

I’ll be back at it before you can blink an eye.