This is what it looks like on the other side of the wall.

Vast. Exciting. Full of promise.

I’m there now, making maps and sticking sticky notes all over the place, writing like mad and finding that Flynn and Sara are much happier now.

Believe me, so am I.

Getting up to face them in the morning is not the struggle it was only three days ago. I think we might make it. Of course it’s early days yet. You’ll probably hear me whining sometime in the not too distant future.

But maybe not.

Maybe it was just finding the right meadow — a new way into the world beyond. And no, it doesn’t look much like Ireland — but you’ve got to start somewhere.

I’m rejoicing in the possibilities!

A few days ago I posted this READ poster which featured my daughter and granddaughter (aka Glowkid) which was a follow-up to Glowkid’s book review of Matilda for her local library.

Why her mom was included has something to do with where she teaches, not because she reviewed any books. She reads books galore — and faster than the wind — but I haven’t see a book review out of her since, well, maybe 6th grade.

But she got to bask in Glowkid’s accomplishment because she’s her mom. Not, apparently, that she knew this ahead of time. Or maybe she did, but she leads a very busy life and ended up having to ferry Glowkid to the photographer in the middle of a practicum with her students.

A practicum with students — she’s an athletic trainer — requires a basic uniform of t-shirt and shorts.

You can’t get your picture taken for a READ poster wearing a t-shirt and shorts. It just isn’t done.

But there was no time to go home and get changed. There was only ‘show up,’ ‘get the pic taken’ and ‘get back to work.’

“I don’t need to be in the photo,” she said.

“Oh, but you do,” said the photographer or The Powers That Be or someone with authority.

“Fine,” said my daughter. Did I mention how accommodating she is? (Just like her mother)

“Right,” said my daughter. Brief pause. “Lend me your shirt.”

It is fortunate that the photographer was a woman, that she was as accommodating as my daughter, and that she was wearing a tank top under her shirt.

So she did. She took off the shirt (a lovely shirt as you can see, but absolutely unlike any shirt my daughter has ever possessed). My daughter put it on. She and Glowkid posed. The photographer snapped. They exchanged shirts.

Simple. Effective. Efficient.

We were told there was a READ poster. We weren’t told the backstory. But I must admit we know her very well. When the poster was put up on the website she told us to go look at it and admire Glowkid. “I’m in the picture, too,” she said, in case we might not notice.

We went. We looked. We noticed.

And we all came back and called her up and said, “Great pic. Whose shirt?”

At some point in every one of my books — and frequently several points in my books — I am faced with a brick wall.

It is, conservatively, about 50 feet high and longer than I can see in either direction. There are, as you might imagine, a lot of bricks in it.

Where I need to get to in my book is on the other side of that wall.

Somewhere in the wall there is — usually — one loose brick. Sometimes the brick is intuitively obvious. Sometimes it’s not. Sometimes I spend an inordinate amount of time wiggling bricks, trying to find the loose one, trying to get it loose, trying to find the hole that will get me to the other side.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes I chip away at a particularly enticing brick for hours, days, weeks, months. Yes, really. And all for naught. The brick isn’t going anywhere. The story is still on the other side. And I’m still here.

That’s when I need to start thinking about other ways around. And that’s what I’ve been doing lately. Brilliant Harlequin Presents writer Michelle Reid describes that as “writer’s block.” (or perhaps, in my case, “writer’s brick?). But I don’t see it as the writer being blocked. It’s not that I can’t write. It’s that there is something in the story that is blocked — and I have to find a way to get at it.

Today I decided that the only way to do it was to change the parameters entirely. If I couldn’t find a loose brick, so be it. I’d build a ladder and climb over.

So I did. I’m on the other side now. There are a lot of bricks back there that I’m never going to even use. Interesting bricks, but apparently not a part of this story.

The ladder worked. At least so far.

Cross your fingers.