Ignore everything I say.

First, just a quick housekeeping note. My Facebook profile is being converted to an open page today, and if the crick don't rise it should be relatively seamless. I love Facebook, and it's my default home on the net to interact with readers – so personal – so I want to make it as easy as possible to interact there. The switch should allow readers to chat with me without having to ask or be "friended" first. Open is better, more is more … all that. So apologies if things go temporarily wonky, and eventually I'll have a prettied up landing page there too, but as with everything, it's a work-in-progress.

*

So remember my belabored post yesterday about plotting and outlining and notecards and being loose … blah, blah, blah? Well, let me first say that I meant every bit of it. Especially the 'being flexible' point. After a long day of reorganizing my brain (and missing my workout – ug! I'm still kicking myself for that) my nemesis – a.k.a. Significant Other – came home from work to find my desk covered in notecards, my hair standing up at the root, and a dazed look to my gaze.

"Stop it."

"What?"

"Stop this. No notecards, no outline. Write the book."

I gestured to the desk. "But I'm not done. I need -"

"You need to write the book. This is not writing. You're scared because you've never written this before, but you need to remember what excited you about this idea – this character, this antagonist, this situation – and start with the first scene. Then write the next. Pour yourself onto the page. Keep it simple. Write the book."

I looked at my notecards. My security blanket. "But I've never written a book that way before."

"You wrote Scent that way before."

Oh, shit.

"But instead of following your energy, you're pouring it into the outline. You're sucking the life out of it. You need to write the book."

I looked at him.

He smiled.

I looked at him some more.

"You couldn't fucking tell me this at the beginning of the day?"

*

So Monday. I start writing the book.