I always have psychological trouble with beginnings. Even though I KNOW it’s not set in stone and that I’ll go back and revise it and probably it will vanish forever and be replaced with something else, I always have trouble overcoming my subconscious sense that this is it, the only beginning and it must be good. Great. It must be spectacular!
Yeah, so anyhow, I’m working on a beginning. I actually have the beginning and I’m hoping it will be enough that I can continue on smoothly. We bought a ceiling fan for my office, which, once installed, should make it much easier to get work done.
And I’ll have news shortly for you (really happy news) and so I’ll leave you with this snippet.
He looked back at us. Something moved across his expression as the overhead light faded slowly. He slowly set his gun on the console. The threat was clear.
“One more thing. I want to know what you aren’t telling me. Right now.” But he looked at me, not at Taylor.
I didn’t blink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I didn’t either. I mean, I was hiding everything I could from him. How was I supposed to know what exactly had set off his radar?