One of the hardest aspects of crafting a novel, for me, is the motivation to plow through the middle. I write what I see in my head. In that, I’ll see scenes that drive a story to the conclusion I know is coming. There is, however, and equally essential need for the connective tissue that weaves or bonds all the parts, the foreshadowing, the red herrings, and the ‘oh shit I didn’t see that coming’ moments that make turning the page not only compelling but emotionally mandatory. I have, among the folders and odd scraps within my drives, five novels…