If I were on Grey’s Anatomy, I’d have been fired. (Wait, scratch that. I’d just be on probation and then I’d save a patient’s life with my bedside manner and hopefulness and everything would be fine again).

My crime? I left the patient (my novel) cut open on the operating table. Cruel? Nah, there are gobs of painkiller and anesthesia flowing into the patient right now.

OK, let me explain myself. While THE MOCKINGBIRDS was on submission to publishers (Little Brown will publish it in 2010!) I kept myself busy working on another novel, which we shall henceforth refer to as THE PATIENT. I managed to write about 40,000 words in it when I realized I had attached a hand to a leg and a nose to a knee and an elbow to a buttock. As you can imagine, THE PATIENT required extensive reconstructive surgery. But I was up to the task. I got out my scalpel and my scissors, scrubbed in and started cutting. I moved the nose back to the face, then attached the elbow to the arm. But as I worked other guts and organs started popping out. I found an eyeball rolling down the leg and then five toes were wiggling around totally unattached to anything. I seized the toes and sewed them back on, but by the time I got to the big toe I stopped. That’s it. I just stopped.

Why?

Well, why do you think?

A new patient walked in and this new patient was fresh and clean and didn’t have any parts in the wrong places. It didn’t have any parts at all, in fact! This patient — let’s call it GRASSISGREENERONTHEOTHERSIDE — was so pliable I could start crafting it properly. I could start with the toes or the nose or the hair and put it together any way I wanted.

So I did. I left THE PATIENT behind and now it sits, a faintly beating heart, a patchwork of mismatched parts, breathing in, out on the operating table, waiting for the surgeon to return.

I don’t know if the surgeon will return, not when she has eyes for GRASSISGREENERONTHEOTHERSIDE .

Writers, friends, business people — tell me about projects you started and then stopped! Did you continue? Did you leave them on the operating room table and return hours later, months later, years later? Or are they still under, perhaps never to be heard from again?