Finally figured out where ONE MILE COUGH was going and now there is an unseemly amount of Sassy lassoing going on in my living room. If only Sam Rockwell would come for a visit…Ahem.

I always do a rough–very rough–sketchier than the scary street everyone skips because the cars are all on blocks–kind of outline when I’m getting a story started. I have a notion of what the theme is and I flesh out the MC but when I get started down the path on the first page I’m still flying by the seat of my pants.

By the time the first chapter is done I’m ready to put together a real, grown-up outline of the next few chapters. This goes on until I get about half way and then I stall out. I know where the end is, somewhere past that creepy neighborhood with angry guys watching me drive by.

I lock the doors and wait at the stop sign for inspiration to strike. Today she smacked me upside the head and I’ve got the bruise to prove it. So many words. Upside is, I’ve finished the outline and found my second wind. If I could just get everyone out of the house so I could work; that would be perfect.