I believe it's official. We can call off the dogs now. The shoes have been found. That means I can start this thousand-mile journey (again).
While I haven't begun near as many books as I have diets, the books (er, I should clarify, novels) that I have started have been just about as successful as the diets. In fact, they follow a remarkably similar pattern:
- I get the idea to do something (what, I don't know---just "something")
- I do something for a while
- I see good results
- I meet a box of donuts
It's hard to believe that a box of donuts can kill a good story, but it's true. Donuts are evil.
And, just like the start of a diet, the start of a novel is a rosy prospect: so full of promise, opportunity, and thoughts of, "This one will be different, I tell ya!"
Except this one really does feel different.
I hope I can tell you about it soon. (Unfortunately I'm still in that paranoid, don't-talk-about-it stage.)
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