So. I’ve procrastinated productively. I’ve got character notes, timeline notes, outline notes, research notes, notes for my notes. I’m starting the prologue, draft 2, novel 1. (And being very dramatic about it, too, ain’t I precious?)

One of my tasks is to rescue my main character from the barely-there-outline she currently is. And I’m suddenly weepy about her, knowing what is in store for her, and I’m weepy for her son, and I hope this fucking novel is worth it. I mean, it is. I don’t have any choice though. Good, bad, or worst of all, indifferent, I’ve got to do it. But dang.