Two years ago my brother challenged me to do Nanowrimo. Until that point, I had only attempted short stories, never believing I had a novel in me. I didn’t quite make the Nano goal of 50,000 words by the end of that month. That first novel never went past the first draft, but it did show me that I was capable of more. I started Nano again this November, and when I hit 50,000 words, I kept going. I didn’t attempt to outline and I had a vague idea of the plot. In February I attended a one-night writing class by Tasha Alexander. I finally finished the first draft on Memorial Day at 83,000 words and promptly put the whole thing aside for six weeks. At the end of that period I couldn’t even remember half the book, so it was with excitement and anxiety that I picked it up and read through it, discovering that I had a skeleton that needed a lot of flesh. And after a weekend at the Killer Nashville conference and some encouraging feedback I realized I needed to completely restructure the first half of the book. This had been a royal pain in the derriere. I love it, I hate it, and I sometimes amaze myself that this is what I do for fun. But I keep doing it because after so many years of sitting on ideas and stuffing writing scraps on my hard drive it’s like a faucet that I can’t turn off.