Well, the month is half over and my writing goals are coming along nicely enough. I got my manuscript out to all my readers (which they promptly told me they loved except that I need to do a major rewrite–and no, Danyelle, it wasn’t just you). I still have some feed back coming in, so I’m not even thinking about it right now, but I have the funniest feeling I’m not going to get it to my publisher before Valentine’s Day. Thankfully that was a self-imposed deadline, so no one cares if I make it except me. I’ll try and accept that my writing schedule doesn’t always work out the way I want it to.
My next book, which I’ve been taking to critique for the past four or five months is in it’s last two chapters. Considering the way I feel about what I’ve written this week, I may end up scrapping the end and trying again. then again, maybe I’ll get lucky and the writing fairy will strike when my back is turned tomorrow. I had planned on 20,000 or more words to be added before the book would be finished, but I’m currently just shy of 14,000 words written this month, and I’m pretty much there. I have one more loose end to tie in, but that’s not going to take 6000 words.
Next up on the docket? Who knows. I could rewrite any of five or so that range from half finished to completely done (but have major structure problems), or work on the companion story to the one I’m just finishing up. We’ll see where the mood strikes next week. (I know what I ought to be working on, but the idea of revising the story to make it work is a bit overwhelming. I guess I should read it and see if it’s fixable or if I should scrap it and do something else entirely. My other option is to ignore it for another seven years and see if the writing fairy turns it into a masterpiece.)
Meanwhile, I’m compulsively checking my in box for any news from my publisher about my first book (a title would be nice) (requested edits would be nice too, just so I can stop wondering what they’ll look like). I know, I know, it’s not even being published for like five more months, and they have four months of books to worry about before mine.
Patience is not my strongest virtue, I guess.
In other news, I have baby quail scheduled to hatch this weekend, and sometime in the next week I’m hoping to take down my Christmas tree. I know, I usually get Christmas cleaned up New Year’s Day, or the day after at the latest, but it seems my inner child refuses to comply with my outer adult. And if my writing deadlines aren’t enough reason to stay away from boxing up Christmas, I’m sure I can find another dozen excuses.