I’m writing my second novel right now, the further adventures of Connie Holt of the McCutcheon Equine Insurace Agency. It’s tentatively entitled, “The Painted Stallion.” This time it’s trouble in the dangerous world of the steeplechase and a new love affair. Usually when I exercise by walking, usually at a track or down the road to my town, I line things up in a row mentally, so to speak, about the current plot situation. Thus prepared, I go confidently to my computer to write my self-imposed 1200 words per day. But in the process of putting my thoughts into words, I find often that my mind says, “That won’t do!” And all my preparation was for nothing. This morning for instance, I found more research was necessary about the race course described in the book, I ended up suddenly dissatisfied with the heroine’s race attire and made it more characteristic of her personality, and I heightened a bloody scene with–yes–more blood.