Crabby

I’m battling crabgrass. It wants to take over the garden. I object. I’ve dragooned my husband to fight with me, wielding hoes. We dig it out on one end. It spreads from the opposite corner. Crabgrass is persistent stuff. Last night we had a massive storm, which did not, sadly, set the crabgrass on fire with lightning or drown it in a flash flood. So today I dug more of it out, battling it down past the watermelon and cantaloupe, pursuing it up the row of sunflowers.

The next book I write needs an antagonist as determined and evil and pervasive as crabgrass. It’s not easy to beat.

The book I’m working on doesn’t have an antagonist yet, so this is something to ponder. I have a protagonist with a problem, but the rest is undefined. This is kind of the best part of building a story, collecting the pieces and letting them come together. The perfect puzzle to turn around in my head while I dig out another patch of crabgrass, may it wither and die.