WIP at last
God-damn. I could use more days like this.
It's a cautious joy, writing something I love and knowing it's what I really wanted to do. Joyful because I love this story, love these characters and I think I'm making it better. Cautious because as much as I love this book, it's never right, and there's no one to buy it.
I wish I had the security of established contracts. I hate writing on spec. And yet most of my work is on spec. Is that because I'm small press? Is it because I have yet to land with one solid publisher - poly-published? Is it because I suck like a Hoover and nobody loves me?
Ah, the reasons writers drink. :)
Still, I'm having so much fun I don't want to stop even though my fingers are numb, my wrist is sore and it's midnight with work in nine hours. It's been a long time since I felt this way. And I didn't even kill anyone today.