Before I started writing Grace, I knew what it was about. It was about being the normal one in a family of people with gifts (Grace) and about being the different one in a family of normal people (Noah) and about finding out that you can be yourself–whoever you are–and still belong.

I read that and sigh. It still sounds like a good book to me. That’d be a good book, wouldn’t it?

But that’s not what that book I’ve written is at all. Not even to the teeny-tiny-most minute degree. This is a book about moving on. About letting go. And I don’t have the slightest idea how it turned out this way. The name doesn’t make any sense at all anymore — not that I’m going to change it, because what would I change it to? But Grace was supposed to realize her own gifts, along with giving Noah the gift of acceptance, and I really don’t see that happening at this point. Instead… well, I won’t spoil it. Suffice to say that that’s not the direction in which I’m headed. But this fairytale’s ending is going to be bittersweet, I think.

My Monday to-do list worked out pretty well, though. Oh, I still haven’t folded the laundry. Ha, I should maybe do that. But I did clean the kitchen and I did work on painting the bathroom and I did walk the dogs, and most importantly, I did manage to map out the remaining chapters of Grace. I had one last plot point that was unresolved and sticky, and I figured it out this morning. It leads to a short story that’s not going to be included in the main story, but that’s okay. I’d actually really like to write more short stories that are scenes — not full-fledged plots, but more just moments in the day. I’m not sure I’d feel right about publishing them, but I think I would find them soothing to write. Low pressure!

And now back to it — I’m glad I know what comes next, but it feels like I’ve still got a lot to write.