|Where my books are set|
I guess since I'm a writer I should talk about my writing. Right now, there isn't anything exciting to talk about. Instead, I'm trying to tell you about the more exciting things in my life. Because seriously, my struggles with paint drying are a lot more exciting than my writing. My agent has my latest book. He likes it. He'll be submitting it. Maybe he already has. I'm trying not to stalk him and ask for updates every ten seconds.
So I'm working on the next book and pretending that I'm not thinking about the book that somebody might be reading. Right now. Or now. Or maybe it'll be read sometime in the next ten minutes. You never know. And thinking about it only makes me crazy, so I keep busy to avoid thinking about it. Because that makes me think about what I'm currently writing, and I'm still in the "my writing is crap" stage, so let's not think about any of it. Let's pretend everything is good and pretty and happy, and there will be rainbows and flowers and butterflies.
While I wait, I'll be working on my house, maybe doing something with my garden, possibly getting a few chickens, turning my children into minions, irritating my husband, and, if we can ever get past soccer season, I might even head back to Leadville to do some more research.
Because I really am working on my writing. Really.