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Trick question. Manuscripts are trainsets. You put them together, play wiith them a bit, try to get other people to appreciate your work and vision and, really, ultimately, no one ever will understand just how long it took to get that tree just right, or the symbolism of the campfire, or why these little pufferbellies are all in a row.

I think writing is compulsive disorder. Seriously. There is no reason in heaven or hell for me to start writing another book and yet, here I go.

Jury duty is over. Still reading books for a literary contest, but that is more than welcomed. Especially compared to my peek into the underworld. It was not cool. I like books more than the real world.

Ha. I am both judging in a literary competition AND serving on a jury, for a criminal trial. I want to say 'funny', but it's not, really.

The writer and director Ed Woods - at least as depicted in Tim Burton's movie of that name - did not fully understand that quality of his work. He thought it was ready for the public. The public tended to disagree. As I push through my recent batch of contest books, I thinking of him often. How many of these authors thought their work was ready? How many thought it was good? How many simply have no idea what a book should be and just hoped, shooting blind in the general direction of a mark....

Very honored to be a judge in a literary competition. Not a huge fan of literary competitions, but sometimes we all need a little annonymus validation, right? I also love being rutless - prompted to read books I might not otherwise. It is a wide and unruly education.

So that's nice.