Writing this book is -- I'm finding -- not unlike putting together a jigsaw puzzle. The kind of puzzle where all the pieces are identically shaped; it's the minute splotches of color you have to match up instead.
I had a CT scan yesterday of my abdomen because it won't stop hurting and it's so difficult to eat. Yet when I get back to writing, I don't mind because I don't really need to eat, or drink, or even sleep. I just want to write and tell the story. And while I'm doing that, time leaks into some liquid place that evaporates far too quickly.
I've written the beginning and the end. The middle is already there but it needs shaping. In a good landscape, sometimes you have to leave some details out. The eye can only focus on so many at a time.
I'm still alive, is what I'm trying to say.