SETTING THINGS ON FIRE
Why, after fifteen years of wallowing in a pit of torqued obsessions, waaaaaaay too many words, irritatingly intricate plotting, and a deeply depressing lack of understanding for my protagonist(s), am I suddenly, astonishingly able to do the work of revising my novel-in-endless-progress?
Why am I waking up at 4:35am and galloping down to my back porch to…