Peeps. Agent 99 got back with encouraging words about the direction, though her take away message is that we're not there yet. I need to make the whole thing work. That is to say that some re-imagining must take place in order for the novel to work in harmony as a whole. Got to find a way to spread the magic evenly and in a well paced way. Not easy, I know. Lots of thinking off the page to make it work, plus it's hard for me to see it all clearly at the moment. Such a game of time, this writing is: we are either waiting for someone to get back to us, or we are waiting for inspiration to occur. Anyway, for today, I'm taking to my bed to try to dream a cohesive entity into being. It's a snow day. I'm stumped. Plus I stuck a rusty drill bit tool (I guess technically it's an ice pick) into my hand, made a crazily sickening puncture wound, and had to get a tetanus shot yesterday; today it feels like my arm was used as a punching bag. I think maybe I was trying to kill myself the slow, hard, drill-bit way, or else I'm just insanely accident prone lately: I'll spare you the details but I've fallen, smashed the side view mirror on my spouse's car, and lost my cell phone about 700 times this week alone. Just one of those times when it all goes wrong-ish. Luckily, nothing serious, just annoying. So, anyway, I'll let you know how the novel-imagining goes. I told 99 that I would need a solid year of working to make it happen. Again, time, right? Well, mice, what the hell else would I do with myself in 2011? At least I have a focus and a meaningful task ahead. What about you? What literary torture/nirvana are you creating with your year? Got a plan yet?