Like A Gargoyle

So I've started reading The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson, that publishing industry noise/newsmaker that sold for $1.25 million and has unfortunately already dropped off the NY Times bestseller list after a run of only a few weeks.

Anyway, it really is a wonderful book, deep and dark and masterfully written. I'd have given the Mr. Davidson that big check, too. Since I've been blabbering about writing so much lately, I found this passage at the beginning of Gargoyle quite apt, because the unnamed narrator sounds an awful like Aaron, our protagonist in Swallowed, who, coincidentally, is 35 himself:

The most difficult thing about writing, I'm discovering, is not the act of constructing the sentences themselves. It's deciding what to put in, and where, and what to leave out. I'm constantly second-guessing myself. I chose the accident, but I could just as easily have started with any point in my thirty-five years before that.

I mean, yeah. At the risk of sounding like Captain Obvious, that's it, exactly, for Aaron, and for me.