Beginning is the hardest part, don’t you think? Or maybe I just have trouble with commitment. Some books make it so easy. You leap on, tangle your fingers in the mane and gallop off into the sunset. The story drags you to the end. You can’t let go. And too soon it’s over. Others hang back, aloof, like unfriendly guests at a party, pushing you away with too many details about colors of the grass and the sky, the texture of this and that, histories of what came before and premonitions of what’s to come. No one talks to you or even notices you are there. You either dig in your heels and stick with it until you find a way in, or you turn away and head back home, chapter closed.
I’ll try not to do that. Instead I will tell you up front, and you can decide whether or not to come along.