stop. start. stutter.

Writing is easy! Knowing what to write, that's the hard part...

I'm noodling around in the exposition for the latest novel (with a working title of Sixteen Tons -- a romp through corporate responsibility, forensic DNA analysis, criminal society, and colonizing the moon) and having fun trying to get a sense of my protagonists. They've already surprised me a few times, which bodes well for the future, I suppose -- if they're this mouthy early on, it's usually a good sign.

Until I can get my feet under me with this one, there'll probably be some radio silence for a while. In the meantime, I'm thinking about tomorrow's launch of Endeavor, and more specifically, the fact that Barbara Morgan is finally about to make it Up There.

I remember sitting and watching the Challenger launch when I was back in grade school; one of our teachers had been a finalist in the teacher-in-space program, and I remember her being devastated that she hadn't been selected -- and then, of course, relieved, and guilty about being relieved. Challenger hurt us so badly, and in a lot of ways, I wonder if the space program will ever recover. I hope it will. I still believe that it offers us so much hope for the future.

Endeavor's flight tomorrow goes to the ISS, and I wish them fair skies and good flying. And here's to you, Barbara. Give 'em hell up there, baby. Twenty-two years is a long time to wait, but I'm pretty damn sure it'll be worth it.