I am about a third of the way into writing a young-adult novel called Blue-Eyed Wolf, far enough in to feel a sense of accomplishment, far enough from the end to still have some apprehension about making it the whole way. But a problem has begun to develop. As I sit down to work each day I find myself feeling increasingly claustrophobic, as though I'm being caught into a place I don't especially want to be.
I sent these early pages to a friend, a fellow writer whose judgment I trust. "Should ...
Published on February 12, 2012 22:01