in which the author annoys herself

Working merrily along on the outline, trying to determine whether a certain marriage really should happen before the hero and heroine's, and if so, whether it really ought to be after this mission, and at what point they ought to find maggots in the flour. . . and in the process, jotting down yet another note about something that can be slipped in somewhere, with the heroine discussing patience, and waiting for an attack on the fortress as she waits for the herbs in her garden to sprout and grow -- and she has more evidence of her patience being necessary than they do, since she gets sprouts, and the attack can come from nowhere --

And I finish the note, and wince.

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