Not Writing, But At Least Thinking

Hurricane has turned, so any hope that the thing would miss us entirely is probably now gone. Today I gave myself a break, slept in a little, and acknowledged that there are some circumstances under which it�s damned near impossible to be creative. Am worried about finding photos, finding baby books (the two I still have left after our 94-95 [metaphorical] trainwreck), having the money to get out of the path. Wondering what we’ll come back to.

But had a good idea for a tight-first-person scene with the killer in LAST GIRL DANCING that will probably fix the issue of motive — which has been a huge problem simply because I have wanted to avoid — well — wallowing in the violence related to the serial killer aspect of the book. This would be good showing, no telling. And scary, I think.

I would, of course, feel a whole hell of a lot better if I didn’t constantly feel like I was going to throw up.

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