Letting the Child Be

stockvault-heart126047With the World Cup party finally underway (Close your eyes and listen, America. That delicious hum of excitement you hear from the south is Brazil)…

The U.S. Open visiting Pinehurst (even without Tiger, there is Phil, Rory, Graeme, Keegan)…

And my Tampa Bay Rays riding into Houston on a 1 game winning streak (this year, that’s something to savor like a fine wine)…

My sports weekend is loaded for bear!

*coughs gingerly into her fist*

I only wish my writing weekend was just so absurdly equipped.

For the last two days, I’ve let Writhe’s sequel just be. Let it linger and gestate and grow into itself without eager Chloe-hands all over it. I, of course, have fed it regularly though sparingly (400 words here and there), and have pruned its environment into nice, well-defined chapters. But other than that, I’ve just let the story breathe.

All very Zen of me, don’t you agree?

So, this morning I woke up and stumbled in to check on my youngest…

*pregnant pause*

And found Book Two…

*bated breath, everyone? Yeah, good.*

Did I mention different?

The setting which was to be 98% Sicily has developed into something more akin to 60% Sicily and 40% New York.

The story’s focus has changed from Lyon to Steed. (A shocking revelation I had never once considered… that’s why hands-off time is so important to a story and its overprotective “mommy.”)

The core mystery, while remaining the same, has changed tone. (Instead of concentrating on the C7 Vertebra, I will now be focusing on T2… a small change for the observer, but a heck of a change for the patient.)

Now, it’s time to go groom the kid for Harvard.


Until tomorrow…


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