Lately, I've been feeling like a carpenter working on the walls of a house. In a daycare center. Once I finally think I'm finally ready to texture and paint, a hole appears, or is pointed out to me. So I work on a way to patch that, only to have several more holes come as a result.
It's like "This is the Song that Never Ends" kind of annoying, but I keep wracking my brain--keep bugging my hubby, sisters, friends, for help. Eventually, I will get there (or at least valiantly try to). I'm too invested not to finish it now. But when I finally do, if this romantic paranormal suspense ends up being completely predictable, scratched and dented, well, just know that many of my brain cells were sacrificed in the process.
In the meantime, I'm off to do some more patching.