Um, let me explain.
After a bunch of family time in Alabama, I returned to Florida yesterday (hence the absurd lateness of my post Monday) to find my wee little garden partying with a host of uninvited weeds. (Seven inches of rain in one day will do that to even the most upstanding of flowerbeds and citrus patches.)
As for the cowering part of my opening statement, I am considering scraping my pennies together and bribing the Manuscript to write itself. The 100k mainstreamer has grown remarkably daunting in its month of merry abandonment.
Frankly, I don’t even know how to approach the thing.
The whole “charging straight ahead with a rallying roar and mighty pen poised to the heavens” would be the preferred strategy but tell that to my suddenly watery knees.
So, I face the beast today with no game-plan whatsoever.
Sorry to disappoint, but even a gal with 17 novels under her belt still has her cowering-in-the-weeds moments.
Hmm… maybe a barrage of spitballs from behind the dandelion sprouts would work?
I’ll let you know.
Your ever-brave and competent Chloe