The dawn has lightened and the depths of the woods behind my house are no longer opaque and mysterious. My mug of tea sits half drunk, and I’ve scanned all my preliminary websites, checking for updates, news, and other methods of diverting myself. I drafted an email and shot it off to the organizers of FaerieCon, asking if they could use my help in any way, angling slyly for a seat on a panel. We’ll see how that goes. There’s now only half an hour left before life revs up into full gear, and I’m suddenly getting dressed, brushing my teeth, eating breakfast, rushing out the door, pell mell through traffic, into my office, at the computer, emails, Skype interviews, design work, meetings, quick lunch, home, workout, cook dinner, sleep. Only half an hour of dawn calm, and my manuscript sits here, waiting for me to begin.

My cursor blinks, like a tapping finger, waiting for me to summon the nerve. To step over the precipice once more.