We got the go ahead. The publisher wants to see The Four Horsemen — a collection of novellas using — you guessed it — the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. This one felt like a slam dunk. Novella length — I can do that in my sleep — about characters that beg to have the breath of life breathed into them. Plus a publisher who will give it a look when it’s all done.
But — Why does there always have to be a but? My main character will not divulge her secrets — hell, she won’t even tell me her name. I had a teeny breakthrough at my daughter’s ball game last night. I know what she wants and what she needs. A good good start. But she won’t tell me her name. I think it might be because I was working on that other novella — which is about a woman who becomes a waitress. And this woman is a waitress. I might have too much similarity here. I need to cleanse my palate just a bit, so I can “see” this other woman. So, I read the Bible and the Torah and drift through the Catholic Encyclopedia as I wait for my main character to come on the scene. However, time’s ticking away. I have a month to produce a decent first draft. And I don’t even know her name. And in case you care — I still have four fish.