Why does a book always take 40,000 words before it begins to ramp up and start being FUN to write?
I'm at about 42,000+ words now, and instead of slogging to the laptop to work, it's like--WHEN can I get to the laptop to write?
This is a very busy month. The Malice Domestic mystery conference starts on the last day of the month, but it's going to TAKE all month to get ready for it. Some friends and I have a surprise package we'll be giving to conference members, and I'm coordinating the effort. I have to have TWO charity baskets ready to go. I'm giving a presentation at the Sisters In Crime Chapters meeting. I'm meeting (separately) with my agent and editor. I'm going to dinner with my fellow Berkley authors. Having breakfast with the Cozy Chicks, and breakfast with Sisters In Crime. I have two panels (one Friday night; one 2nd thing Sunday (and will anyone attend?) morning. Plus I have to lose the Agatha Award at the banquet on Saturday night. (My friend Mary Jane Maffini has already promised me her sinful dessert as a consolation prize. What a pal!)
Oh, gosh. I'm exhausted just thinking about it.
In between, the book has to keep on rolling along.
Why can't there be 48 hours in a day?
(BTW, those of you who've signed up for my newsletter--look for it on Monday. I have a few announcements and a new contest!)