I’m here to report on yet another fascinating day in the life of a writer. While working on Wren, I chopped up most of one chapter and a long section of another. I debated whether someone’s emotional output would appear green or red–a debate carried out entirely in my mind, but a heated one nonetheless. Followed it up with a similar debate over whether someone would use blue or green chalk.

That’s the trouble with the experience of writing. It contains vast desolate regions of no real interest to anyone but the writer. Will anyone else ultimately care about the color of Juno’s chalk or Lil’s emotions the way I did today? Nope. Will I care about those details once I have them worked out? Probably not.

Glamorous? Not in the least. Fulfilling? Absolutely.