I once thought I had all the time in the world

There is always a feeling of relief when you finally finish the book, after all the editing (the latest book had been revised and edited 16 times – I know, I should stop fiddling), and accepting I’ve have done all I can.

It’s like watching another child leave the nest.  There’s that hollow feeling inside.

Of course, the answer to getting over that feeling is to get on with the next book.

This time I finished another two books together, so it has been equally as exhausting as it was the last time, especially with the two sets of characters and storylines.  I realize I should work on one, get that done, and then work on the other.  Sorry, I can’t do that.

Actually, I was working on another story at the same time, what was supposed to be a short story that oddly found its way into being a full-length novel.  More on that work later.

My editor, after being presented with, and finally reading through the so-called final draft, calls me in to discuss the works, simply closes her eyes and shakes her head, then tells me one character has crossed over to the other novel.

Perhaps working on two novels at the same time is not a good idea.

Both “Strangers We’ve Become” and “The Things we do for Love” are in the final stages of completion before being published on Amazon, and a third, “First Dig Two Graves”(second in the series of the ‘Zoe the Assassin’ series) is on its third revision.

The question is, now, what to do next?

Catch up on social media, which includes Twitter, where I do a little advertising, and Facebook, which I still don’t understand how it is going to work for me.

Perhaps not.

‘First Dig Two Graves’ is beckoning, and yes, that very loose statement, ‘only a few more modifications’ can be anything from a new chapter at the start or a whole rewrite.

Ah, the hectic life of a writer.

In between, there was a granddaughters 9th birthday, and an anniversary, so many now I’ve lost count.  Then I finally reached an age I never thought I’d get to, 66, almost the devil’s number.

It seems there really is so little time, and so much more to do.

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