throw another bear in the canoe

Went to the renfaire with the boy for an hour or so today. Tempest was playing, but they had the stage on an island in the middle of a lake, of all the silliness, so there was no dancing in front of the stage.

Bah.

258 words on The Stratford Man today, most of which I like: it was just poking, because I'm officially on vacation while I do some research. And about 1750 on the YA thing, which is rapidly nearing draft status.

I am currently thinking the secret of YA is all in the exposition. It has to be transparent, fast, and interesting. Of course, this is probably the hardest thing in all of fiction to manage.

But I could be wrong.