My blog is late again. I should probably apologize but I have a feeling this is soon to be a reoccurring situation. Let me explain…
Yesterday, I was lucky enough to gather with some of my fellow 7ED’s at Smokey’s. He prepared a lovely luncheon, complete with wildebeest stew, a medley of swamp veggies, and good old fashion tubers. It was fantastic. Even better, was the chance to sit back on rickety chairs at the old, scarred wooden table and shoot the breeze with my fellow swamp inhabitants. Me and my knight-in-somewhat-mud-splattered-armor were able to lose the Prankster Duo for a couple of hours. (We sent them on a wild raven chase after Mischievous) The only time I had to use a sharp implement was to snag another piece of wildebeest. Like I said, nice and relaxing. Even our whip-mistress, Snarky was in a good mood. Her whip only came out a few times and very little bloodshed was left behind. Eerie was assisting Smokey on how to add just the right amount of spice, while Quirky tried to surreptitiously watch the process so he could later reproduce the product in his underground lab. Even though we were missing Sunny, who’s been out sharing her light and laughter while maintaining her superwoman persona, it was still nice.
During our conversation, I was sharing (okay whining) to Snarky about how much the upcoming months terrify me. I found out that Shadow’s Edge should be released on November 1st and as exciting as that is, there’s the flip side. This is my first full length book and as a newly published writer, there is a lot of things you, the creator of this wonderful book, need to do to help along your publisher. As I sat there calmly (okay, a few sobs snuck in there and maybe a little begging) discussing the impending blitz of promotion heading my way like freight train with Snarky (who’s an old pro at this since her fast track started last year), it began to hit me just what I was facing in the come days and months.
Blog tours, Twitter, Facebook, give-aways, reviews, the list goes on and on. The scary part, that’s just for Shadow’s Edge. That doesn’t take in the fact that the first draft of Shadow’s Soul is pages away from completion, which means it then has to undergo the brutal process being sent to the 7ED’s for their bloodletting, then back to me to carve the carcass down to only the finest points, then bundle the bloody book off to my publisher, only to have them slice and dice their way through it. That’s my first task to accomplish amidst the promotional blitz.
The second, NANO (National Writing Month) is around the corner and I have a concept that is dragging its claws across my brain in ever deepening swipes for attention. So in the next few weeks I need to get set for writers version of Survivor.
Third, there’s another book I have that’s half way done which would be nice to get finished say sometime in the next millennium or so. That’s on my list.
Fourth, there’s this pesky thing I refer to as “my job that pays the bills” that keeps requiring I give it my attention at least 10 hours a day. Annoying, I know, but bill collectors are so much harder to get rid of once they show up.
Fifth, there’s something in the water in the land of the mountains that has some of the women in my family heading for the alter. Yep, I have two great females in my clan that have finally agreed to let their men have the blessings of their companionship for the rest of eternity. So, as excited as I am to be out celebrating with them in the next week, it’s still on my list.
Sixth, the Prankster Duo show no signs of slowing down either. Keeping up with them is enough to have me longingly window shopping for a straight jacket. Plus, my ever patient knight-in-somewhat-muddy-armor would occasionally like to spend some time with yours truly, just so he can remember why he got the armor in the first place. Big sigh.
As I finally ran down on my panicked list of things-that-must-be-done, Snarky, the font of eternal wisdom, delicately licks her fingers as she sets down a newly cleaned bone of wildebeest on her plate, pins me with those icy blues and says, “Suck it up, butter cup, you’ll be fine.”
Fine? Is she nuts? I open my mouth to argue, but she gets that look which can send all the rest of us running for cover. It’s the same one that proceeds the appearance of her red ink sword of agony. I shut my trap and give her a small nod as nerves turn my stomach into a roiling pit of acid. “Sure, I’ll be fine.”
She nods, and the impending threat is adverted. I guess I have no choice as the impending snowball of doom merrily rockets toward me, I’ll be fine.