E is for Exaggerate, which is something I always do. Well . . . almost always.
E is for edit, which is something I can’t not do.
E is also for Endings.
Since right now I know more about beginning a novel than ending one, I’m having a mild emotional meltdown. Will I ever make it to the middle, much less the end of a novel?
E is for excuses. “The sun was in my eyes,” is the classic Little Leaguer’s excuse for missing the pop fly. I probably have as many variations on this classic whine as there are freckles on a redhead.
Finally, E is for Easter. My savior Christ suffered as I do—though he was innocent and I am not—but then He defeated death, rose from the tomb, and yet lives.