Sometimes story ideas arrive to me wrapped up in pretty, little boxes.
They appear out of nowhere on my lap. Innocent and tiny, I can’t help but pull the bow, lean down to peek inside and…
Get smashed in the nose when a heaving, needy whale of a tale leaps out. (You know, one of those stories that would take decades of research to even outline properly?)
Well, that happened last night.
And I’m one ugly mudder this morning.
Bottom line: Writing is brutal.