I'm panicking. I can count the days of school left on my fingers. This kind of simple math used to be the cause of such rejoicing but now all I can think of is, "get the book done!"
When summer rolls around its time to be mommy first and writer second. I'm seriously considering my mother's advice from earlier today. I was going on about how I have to get this book done before school is out and she looked at me blankly and said. "Here's your ending. There was an explosion. The end."
Okay, maybe you had to be there, but it was funny.
I'm working on the next Ghost Unit book. The first draft is a little over half done and if I can get it to three quarters done I'll be freaking happy. First draft is a bare-bones story but it's much easier to add texture to the story in small bites of time than it is to get the first draft done. A manuscript has to go through at least three or four versions before I let anyone read it. Then it takes at least two versions with the critique partner before I feel it can see the light of day. Hence the panic.
Family obligations always cut into writing time as well. This time it's a sad one, another funeral to attend.
I'm also sad to say that I won't be able to attend the Lori Foster event this year. I've been lucky to go the last two years and can't tell you how much fun it is. If there is one event that only death keeps you from, this is it.
Oh well, enough of the moping around. Back to writing.