This novel is a sticky web that doesn't want to be woven some days. My editor says every scene must be there for a reason. Every scene must lead clearly to the next one. But at the moment I'm writing a collection of snapshots that are moving vaguely toward the end of a summer and very precisely toward the end of innocence.
It's not an easy path to pave with fictional characters or real life. It's that first life altering disappointment, when you find out that no one is perfect, that your parents are failing and your friends are failing and you are failing because failing is the only way to actually live. That's what I'm trying to capture with a sea of words in a way that grabs hold of your soul, crushes it, resurrects it and gives you enough hope to go on wanting to try.