Spring is the season of rebirth, when the flowers and plants that I thought were dead pop up with green heads and say hello. And thanks to entering my second trimester and being able to stay awake after I get home from my day job, I've finally been able to get back into writing. I'd lost touch with it over the past few cold, sleepy months, and I've been rereading the draft over the past two weeks, finding it both worse and better than I remembered.
And now I'm stuck.
It's a motivation problem. I haven't properly delved into the motivation of one of my minor characters and now this little old ghost lady is glaring at me from where she's hovering by her coffin, waiting for her lines, and I'm coming up blank.
What kills me is that I know I had an idea of what she wanted a few weeks ago, thought I would remember it, and didn't write it down. I may resort to getting out paper and writing out an interview with her.