The Bird of Paradise is a fantastic flower, both in its color and its crazy, crazy stamen. I’d accuse it of compensating for something, but, um, stamens kind of ARE the flower’s male sexual organs.
As our summer season draws to a close, I find myself finishing a project. My novel, which I’m currently calling An Imperfect Reflection, is juuuuust about finished. This is one of the hardest parts of writing a novel. Finding the line between ‘almost done’ and ‘done’ is orders of magnitude harder than writing that first line. It’s even harder than writing that squishy part in the middle when the excitement has worn off and writing is mostly just work. I’ve revised and polished, again and again.
There’s still more to do.
But it’s close.