It's the little epiphanies that make writing so much fun. 

Here I am, finished with chapter 7 of my second book, and stalled for nearly two weeks on the beginning of chapter 8.  It won't come together.  I write several pages only to look back on it and read drivel: my muse has apparently deserted me for a sunny beach in the tropics.  I scrap the beginning of chapter 8, and stare at a blank page.  I take a nap, go get something to eat, go do something else--anything to distract myself from the problem while The Girls in the Basement puzzle out a solution.  The two they threw up earlier in the week certainly didn't pan.  I worry at my dilemna like a sore tooth.

I sleep on it yet one more time.  Lo, and Behold!  The Girls in the Basement pull my butt from the fire!  What was the problem, you ask?  I was starting the chapter in the wrong point of view (pov) AND at the wrong point in time.  This little epiphany early this morning forced me from my bed.  I am not sure whether to sigh in irritation in having to get up before I really wanted to, or in relief.  I'm going with relief...remind me to buy the Girls in the Basement a pizza and some sodas....better yet, a spa day--less fattening.

However, I could have done without the other epiphanies that came with this latest one.  Those epiphanies will require WORK and EDITTING and ADDING entire sections, not to mention yet another pov...luckily, this pov character is already in the book, so it shouldn't be tooooo bad.  I know the other epiphanies add layers and complication, twists and turns to the story, and will (God I hope so) make it more exciting and readable, increase the tension.  I begged the Girls for a solution...they gave me several I didn't ask for.  Beggers can't be choosers, I suppose.  More's the pity.

To the epiphanies, those now and in the future: May I be worthy of their challenges and do them justice.