2:29 a.m., and I have 1,004 decent words, which I managed by opening up a message in Outlook and pretending I was writing to my friend Katy about what makes a good translation . . . that little Outlook e-mail box so much smaller and less frightening than the vastness of the white Word page, and Katy so much more known (and so much less likely to be judgmental) than the countless astute readers of the Horn Book. I don't have a conclusion, and I have the niggling sense there's something I need to be investigating more deeply -- some Big Idea emerging through what I've written that will need to be fully articulated and then will change the entire direction of the article. When I'm not under pressure, this is the part of writing I love most, seeing those Big Ideas come out and saying "Oh wow!" and chasing them down to make them mine. But right now I am writing run-on sentences without end and conjunctions without number, and the idea of a Big Idea merely tires me (never mind actually chasing it); and thus I will go to bed. Thanks to all of you for listening to my sleep-deprived perfectionist-panicked ramblings.
The End.
The End.