oh hey, this blog exists!

I feel rather like a deep-sea diver who is surfacing after a very long time underwater.

The fall book tour (a.k.a. Deathmarch) is done. The new book (a.k.a. The Bitch) is done. The election is done. In fact, the only thing that isn't done is the laundry. But that's never done.

Okay, technically I still have one more booksigning this Saturday. But since it doesn't require sleeping in a hotel or packing a suitcase, I say it doesn't count. I am slowly unearthing my kitchen and I might even get crazy and run a vacuum. Pretty soon I'll put that suitcase in the closet, because really, I won't need it for a couple of months.

It's a heady feeling. Even better is this: last night I got home and realized that I did not have to work on the book.

This might seem weird, but for months now I've been on the midnight shift. I work the day at the newspaper, then I get off duty and go be Mom for a while. Once the boy is in bed, then I break out the laptop and work another two or three hours.

Or four or five. By the end of the Blackfire second draft, I was up until 3:30-4 a.m. each night and then up again at 7 a.m. to put the boy on the bus. Any resemblance I may have borne to the zombies in my book are entirely coincidental. Any psychosis I may have displayed is regretted.

Wait, who are you people again?

So now I'm poking around Ye Olde Facebook and reacquainting myself with the concept of television and I might even remember to blog here once in a while. Well, let's not get crazy.

Finishing a book is a good feeling. It's never as good on paper as it was in my head, but this one still feels pretty good. I hope you all like it more than I liked writing it; that's always my wish. Making money is nice, but a reader telling me they loved my book (or that it made them laugh/cry/hide under the bed) is much better.

Now I'm going to take a little break. I might give myself the whole week off. But next week, it's back to that pesky novella I was mulling as the centerpiece for Moonlight Sonata. You remember, that short-story collection I've got coming out next year?

No rest for the wicked. Or was that weary? I can never remember.

Comments

  1. I'm glad you have a chance to rest a little bit. Well...as much as you can having to deal with the Spawn and...well...me. ;)

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