Tonight I whipped up a rough draft for the story part of the book.

It was interesting for me to have spent the latter half of my 27 years on this earth trying to over-think and be analytical about everything, and then to have to suddenly simplify my thoughts for a pre-school age audience. I was trying to make the book subtly educational, but continued to reach the point where the simplicity couldn't be maintained.

For example, Adan the Tiger meets a turtle. On several of the first drafts, I was cemented in the idea that Adan would somehow discover how long turtles were expected to live. But in every draft of the story, the way in which Adan had to find out such facts exceeded the acceptable amount of time for even an adult to pay attention.

I went from an elaborate storyline where Adan's discoveries rivaled those of marine biology graduate students, to combining basic colors and numbers into his adventure. Even then the simple beginning and end of the story of a lost tiger cub seems frayed, open-ended, and unbelievable. How is it that I'm going to write a book about a talking tiger, but I can't get over the fact that he learns about colors and numbers while lost in the jungle?

I suppose today's brain-wrenching activity was just the first of many as I embark on my journey into motherhood.