The Book Three convoy and I, cruising down the interstate at a nice 70mph clip.
Fast food joints and trucks stops were zinging by our windows in fantastic blurs of grease and octane.
Bumps were minimal, construction zones nothing but old hat and the weather was real fine.
The cross-country journey from start of novel to finish was over a 1/3 complete and all the vehicles, from the backstory big rigs to the supporting cast U-Hauls to the main character Jags, were looking forward to an on-time arrival at the publishing house on October 15 when out of nowhere…
The nice, tidy, dramatic-as-all-get-out ending suddenly shoved its shocking self right into the middle of my best laid plans and outlines.
Yep, the caboose was now tucked up in between all the passenger cars… (I know. This is train imagery, now. But you deal with some Sudden-Onset Convoy Upheaval and see if you can keep all the metaphors straight. I’m lucky I haven’t drifted off into limericks at this point.)
So, now I’m having to pull the whole line over to the side of the road while I scour the maps and fiddle with the dang GPS.
How I’m going to get this bunch of knuckleheads to the west coast by mid-October is way beyond me.
So, if you’re looking for me in the immediate future best check those southern Missouri Whataburger’s first.