I took a break from my first story just after I started rewriting it. For the fourth time. I swear, I could put a whole novel together from just the endless revisions. But this story, tentatively called Three Days to Beit Lehem, is completely different. I had a weird dream a few weeks ago — must have been the AP exams that did it, that delivered that final death-kick to my sanity-starved brain. All I really remember from it like this:

It was a nice name, no doubt, but who in their right mind would name the son of God Warren?

This, thankfully, took a more serious track. I found myself a Hebrew font (hooray!), and got to work looking up names, places, dates, and telling myself that I’ll make my best effort to read the New Testament to get even a little more religious background so I can bring some humanity into the stories. Because, frankly, they’re a bit one-sided, aren’t they? Being a non-Christian, this is already difficult enough. At least I haven’t written whales into the story, but what more could you expect from someone whose favorite smells include melted butter, Mazda, and garage?

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