An abundance of Jacks. It is done.

After a million years of writing, rewriting, giving up, starting over, typing while half-asleep after being awake with a baby/toddler/school kid, then trying to figure out what this nonsense is that I wrote, then finally getting back on track and inching towards the end… I finished my second book.

This book has taught me the importance of starting a novel in the right place. And that outlines are far more effective than just flapping my hands at the keyboard and hoping for the best.

It also taught me the importance of a story bible. Or, at the very least, a character list. Without those things, especially if you’ve worked on a book for a long time, you might start with a character called Andrew, impulsively change his name to Jack for a few thousand words, then decide Jason works much better. Not that I would do that. No.

Let's just say editing is a brave new adventure, trying to figure out what my sleep-deprived brain was doing and where all these Jacks came from. They're harder to get rid of than cockroaches. They get in everywhere.