So I spent Easter alone all by myself. That was weird. At least the weather was nice. Around 60. I went for a long walk down by the river. The first clouds of bugs hovered near the ground, so I guess that means spring has sprung.
I've decided there must be an Archetectonic Novel Help Line. Not just for me, but for any poor soul who foolishly attempts such things. Maybe they can talk you down, or send you an emergency assistance Novel Kit that may include: a thermos of coffee (or Red Bull), arthritis medication for your carpel tunnel, that MOVE THIS CD collection hottie Rachel Perry is hawking on late night TV so you can least get your groove on while you sit and sit and sit and ponder the impossibilities.
I finished Chapter 22 last night, and I don't have any more answers for 21 than I did when I put it aside. With all the exposition I have to get down in it, it's almost more difficult than the first chapters of the first novel. Sigh.