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When I walk on the beach, I search for dolphins out at sea, smile at skittering sandpipers, prod at shells wedged into wet sand. I also peer into piles of sea stuff - seaweed, driftwood, shells - washed up on shore because you never know what you'll find. Sometimes a huge, whole sand dollar. Sometimes a stinky fish.
This WiP, this new novella, has become that fish. I dig through ideas, characters, dialogue, excitement and passion only to end up with something so smelly it makes my eyes water.
However, I don't think it's time to move on to another pile - or another project - just yet. I hope that if I just nudge aside some clingy kelp, if I sift through more broken shells, I'll find that sand dollar, find that story. It might be dirty and stained. It might even be inside that fish. But if it's there, I'll find it. I'll unearth it. I'll clean it up. And I will make it glow.
