To begin, today’s small stone:

From the glowing white shadows of rose gold buildings, I step out.

That might be my smallest stone yet. Funny how something that began as purely observational comes quickly to the point of revealing my state of mind. Perhaps the revelation is less than clear – it is this: I am feeling utterly daunted by the enormity of the task before me; that of reworking my novel. It seems a huge job, and yet more than 60 thousand words of it are on paper so perhaps (I hope) it is not so half-baked as I suspect.

Not that I’m making significant progress today. I don’t have hayfever. The sneezes misled me. I have a cold; a horrible achey breaky leaky cold. I just want to go back to bed. But I have two children and if I go to bed they might notice.

I’m tempted to try and find out.

Or I could cozy up on the couch with a(nother) cup of coffee and tackle my outline while Louis watches Veggie Tales. I just need to start – to look at the thing as a whole and make some notes, weigh up the possibilities, make a few tough calls…

As someone once said/wrote, “It’s a dangerous business… going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

The question, I suppose, is whether or not ‘keeping my feet’ is vital to pulling a half-decent novel together. It’s possible I’m exploring a less than helpful metaphor rather than doing my work. So I’ll stop now.