Now that I’m at 37,047 words of a new Carl North mystery novel that has no name, the work sometimes gives me pause.
The metaphor of driving at night, and only needing to see as far as the headlights’ beams, works. But it can be unnerving.
It takes a certain amount of faith, and the commitment to pause now and again.
Where might those headlights be headed?
Oh yeah, okay, maybe over there.