I finished the story last night. I cut it to the bone and then I cut some of the bone out. It was so hard to do.

Today I am deleting old email while reading what I have of Carnal Fear. I'm always surprised by the quality of my own writing, which sounds so totally conceited but whatever, it's true.

It's very odd to me that I run around and around in my brain questioning so much and then I read something I wrote and the answers are right there.

I wonder how I know the things I know. Freeing the Madwoman has Dalton unable to face his wife's death. How did I nail him so well? How did I know how death can cut you in two and leave your parts flailing around trying to connect to each other while they really want to reconnect with the dead?

How do my characters know just the right thing to say to each other and they are what I need to hear from someone?

Why aren't I soothed by what I write? Why don't I believe what my characters believe?

And really, why don't I have anyone to go see Counting Crows with me? That's not really so much to ask.