Middle management

I took a nice long break from the internet this weekend in order to babysit a friend's pet, Bruno. I'm not sure, but I think he's some kind of horse. He eats huge bags of raw meat and has his own giant chair, pictured below. It could easily seat two people who don't mind being cozy The perspective in this shot doesn't do him justice, but he's about eight times bigger than Parker, and he's still a puppy. I mean pony.


He is not allowed on the couch, but when he decides you look like you need a backrest he will climb up behind you and do his best to make you comfortable. He won't move when you ask him, but he's happy enough to be dragged.


Meanwhile, my novel(s) is(are) driving me crazy. I did a lot of experimenting, rewriting, rearranging this weekend (when Bruno made room for my laptop), and I'm full of ideas but no clarity. 

One of my readers suggested I need to develop the middle manager part of my brain. The guy who's boring but steady and organized, the guy with the thankless job of making sure my plot has enough sense and pace to keep anyone reading past page 5. But every time I ask Middle Management a question, he says it's his coffee break and I look peakish, why don't I take some iron and a short nap? Which makes me wonder if Middle Management's been hanging out with my mom. 

Currently reading: The Red Shoe by Ursula Dubosarsky