Yep. A pyramid.
Not the pink elephant or giant gorilla most people have sucking up oxygen in their proverbial room.
Nope. I’ve got a pyramid.
Khufu-esque in its grandiosity.
A regular Giza in my den.
Now before laments for my obviously spent sanity are begun, let me just assure you that I’m talking writing here, not psychiatry.
The challenge of Quiver’s (that would be Book Three) halfway point climax and its pyramidal storyline arc has taken on a monumentality that would have dropped even a pharaoh’s jaw.
At this point, it’s not so much about its shape as it is about its size and its immovability. I can’t get my mind around the stupid pointy thing. And as much as I shove and shovel it this way or that, the climax ain’t moving, not even a smidge.
It’s frustrating and the freaking sand is everywhere.
Digging myself out of this mess will indeed be interesting.