Notes to a Writer's Self

The first flakes of the fabled thundersnow have started to fall. Home will be the globe now, so they tell us.

Today, while talking with clients, while reviewing proposals, while sending an email or two, I had this thought about the novel that I wrote for adults, a novel that needs another round of attention before I send it out newly into the publishing world.

If a single transition—in a poem, in a story, in a novel—is broken, then the whole is broken; it is untenable and marred.

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