Follow Up to the Title Woes

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I just figured out a title, and there isn't anything exceptional about it.

I've settled on "Stetsons and Strangers."

There we go. It's a title.

And sometimes, it just has to be finished. My best friend's little boy made that statement once and it has stuck with me since. (Out of the mouth of babes?)

It doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be done.

And sometimes, done is better than perfect. Perfect is a demanding master. Perfect makes it difficult to a place where you can look back on your accomplishments, because nothing ever gets accomplished.

So I have a title, and while it doesn't necessarily "pop" it is sufficient.

On another note, I have reached a point in the revision of the novel that I can smile and think to myself: "You know, this isn't half bad."

Perfection isn't all it's cracked up to be.

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