Up early. Before the sun. Can’t sleep. The ending of Legion is haunting me. It’s time to pull 99,000 words together to complete a 100,000 word manuscript. People are waiting. “So when will your next mystery be coming out?” They are asking. The pressure is on. When I passed by Clark Anderson Fouraker’s room, I saw light under his door. He, too, is hard at it! Burning the midnight oil. I can smell his pipe tobacco and in my mind’s eye, I see him puffing away. Strategizing. He’s brilliant at tying up loose ends. It’s in his DNA.