Oh, joy, oh rapture, I'm printing up the Very, Very Postively Final Draft of MY LORD'S DESIRE and tomorrow, my bestest buddy, the FedEx Man, will be picking it up to go to NY. I tell ya, it's been a trip, this one. When I found myself spending nearly an hour on two and a half pages yesterday, and this the what? Fiftieth draft of those pages? Ay yi yi! The Slough of Despond! Today, when I finished inputting the changes for the last chapter? Euphoria!
Then I went shopping.
Now, I ask you, is it wise to go shopping in a state of euphoria? And here's a tip: do not go shopping for white towels while wearing black jeans. Lint-o-mania!
But I have lovely new thick towels, and new linens and joy supreme -- a butter dish. Yer basic white china butter dish -- $8.99. What can I say? It's the little things that give me a thrill. (Don't get me started on the joys of the Dollar Store, or my children may disown me.)
There's something else that's adding to the euphoria this time. I know *exactly* how I'm going to start the next book. A lot of the time, thinking of the next book when I've just finished one is about as exciting as planning to climb Mount Everest barefoot. This time, such is not the case. It helps, I think, that it's a sequel, and I've already met the hero. He's one of those guys who walks into a book, looks around, cocks a brow and says, "Well, what about me?"
Ah, Bayard, my boy, fasten your helmet and hold on tight, because I have such plans for you....