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Pieces

What a day. I have been writing today on Victoria… I am so tired, so unbelievably tired, yet so frantic to write. Write what? Everything seems unraveled and yet all the pieces are there to ravel together. I can do that. I can understand. I could not before, when I could not see the way things were. The things that confused me about books I understand now. I am filled with a desire to write the right way… I am overwhelmed, and yet I must. I am so tired, but I cannot really rest.

I find it is really hard to fill in the missing pieces on my research. I am too tired to read about this stuff, but the stories need background. I wish I could find a concise book on care and feeding of a child. How does one care for a baby? Is it anything like a dog? How much do they eat a day, how fast do they grow, what is that teething stuff, and when do they start talking and walking? These are questions that need answers, for this story, and for every story there are dozens of questions about dozens of subjects. Even the subjects of interest to me... like the Puritans. How much was their society stratified? How did they really talk? Would a minister address a servant as an equal? I could fill this journal with questions, questions for every story.

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