Revising this novel has been like walking through molasses. Keeping momentum is difficult, and when I’m not working quickly I can’t outrun my Inner Critic.* Unfortunately, he has moved in and set up camp.
He is now ensconced in a recliner chair in the corner, booted feet crossed, smoking a pipe. With one lift of a sardonic eyebrow, he shoots me silent questions and comments. Who are you to plot an entire novel? I can completely see who did it the first time you introduce that… Continue