The title is in reference to a certain common saying involving woodwork, and things crawling out of it. If you're wondering why I focused on what was arguably a rather small part of the story in it.
Elizabeth's diary entries involved a great deal of threading the needle--I had to make them just badly-written enough to give her a voice, but not so badly-written that they became unreadable. I like to think that I managed it, but that could be my writer's ego talking.
For those wondering, the name of the precise being that is causing most of Elizabeth's problems is in the story--however, Elizabeth has no idea what she's writing down, and mangles it completely. It is a genuine figure from Northeastern Native American folklore, and one reason why Elizabeth spends so much of the later part of the story watching out for snakes. Actually, while I'm at it I should note that while most of the pieces to the puzzle of what's happening in the story are there--or at least implied--a few aren't, for the simple reason that it made no sense for Elizabeth to either find them, or suddenly become good at putting them together. So, if enough people ask me, I'll be willing to explain the backstory.
Not that I expect many takers...