Two days ago I wrestled the very rough first draft of my next speculative fiction work into a set of graphs. It’s hard to know if the book has been playing in my subconscious since, or if I’m merely procrastinating about printing the entire manuscript, grabbing sticky notes and markers, and getting to work.

There are excuses. My left thumb hurts. I had a board meeting that required prep. The weather is wrong. My desk is messy. Our President is in a name calling spat with an unstable nuclear player.

Reality is I’m having difficulty nailing down one descriptive paragraph about the book. I have a Joan of Arc character battling power brokers in a not so distant future to restore individual’s right to determine their life direction. And there are gender issues and socio economic issues and geographical challenges.

Then there is a sneaking sense that the title may have political correction challenges. I like the title. The book grew out of a short story with the same title and is reflective of the protagonist’s struggle. If I change the title the protagonist’s name and part of her story needs revision. I place naming a book as somewhere between the importance of naming a baby and a family pet. Since publishers like to change book titles, my time fretting about this concern falls behind my sore left thumb.

Blogging is as good distraction. Away from family and friends for a week I am doing what I said was important—writing. Check back for reports on the revision work. Maybe the thumb will improve.