Sorting through the pieces of a story to determine which goes where and what section connects with which other is exactly the type of elaborate puzzle I'm currently working through. The craft of writing isn't simply knowing what needs to happen in a story, it's weaving it together in such a way that nobody can see the stitches that hold it together. The New York Times Book Review once accused me of "sketching" and possibly they were right on some level. But I'm not sketching anymore. I'm ready to fucking paint like Rembrandt, just letting the perfectionism within me take hold.