My son made this battle scene over April vacation. Must admit, I kind of love it. It’s exactly where I am after a very long two of weeks of flu symptoms being passed on from one family member to the next, like an evil game of tag.
My littlest bean suffered from a concussion and to heal she created a hovel on the middle of the dining room floor (Yes, she does respond to her new nickname, Troll) with books and water and audio stories on CD’s. She spent five days down there. Hanging out. Napping. It’s starting to look very appealing that hovel. I might need to crawl in.
In the middle of all this, I’m revising. The thing is that I’m always revising. I’m the revisor who calls, “Wolf.” At this point, I’m not even sure that anyone believes that I have this manuscript. It’s true. I. Can’t. Stop. Touching. It.
Writing is a battle of ideas and wills. It’s so fun. It’s so incredibly difficult. Is the novel getting better? I’d hope so. Yet, I am so far into this battle I honestly have no idea. It’s such an odd place to be.