I woke up this morning itching to jump into the novel I’m working. And I do mean itching. The thing needs to get written, and I mean now. Of course I want to get it done, but I’ve suddenly found more motivation than ever for a very unexpected reason. About two months ago I had the barest outline of a new story I wanted to write pop up in my head while reading an article in Outside Magazine and just started reading the first book I bought on the research last night. This new story is veritably bursting out of my brain cells, which is making it a little like to cats fighting inside my pillowcase in the ole nugget. I have one story getting close to done, and another wanting to be started. Now I know how Zeus must have felt when Athena was hammering away inside his skull.

And just to clarify, this is a very high class problem. I’m not complaining.

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