author: Nicole J. LeBoeuf

Wow.

OK. I've just written the penultimate scene in the book. I've decided at last exactly what leads up to the shooting scene, and how that comes about; and I've fleshed out a bit of what happens just after. (Best line of dialogue so far: One police officer says to another, "You asshole, put that away. You wanna tell your kids you shot a unicorn?") And I've finally figured out how to resolve Diane's relationship with the one-horned critter such that she loses the ability to change shape in a way actually required by the story.

Hint: no, she doesn't just lose the magic item. It's something better.

I'm not sure whether what I just wrote was awful purple yuck or transcendent glorious poetry. But I'm feeling like I just read something transcendent and glorious, anyway, so I'm just going to ride that wave for now and congratulate myself.

Now I really ought to pull out my short-short story draft and start revising it into something submittable. Except I'm kinda scattered at the moment...

Maybe it's the coffee. Many cups of coffee, on top of a glass of tea from Penny Lane, on top of a pot of tea from the Tea Spot. My brain went and drowned in caffeine. So... I guess I'll hit the keyboard again when I've managed to resuscitate it and dry it off.

Happy Thanksgiving!