My publisher approached me saying they wanted to publish me, but the only catch was that I had to give them three books a year.
“No, problem,” I said. After hanging up the phone the “oh, shit” feeling came. I have manuscripts in the drawers. That would work. I dug them out. The only one worth saving was The Superstitious Romance. I wrote that in ’01, and when I read it again I still liked it. It was one of my critique group’s favorites, so I submitted that quickly.
One down. Two to go. Silent Cries, another favorite book I poured my heart into, suited the publisher and so they agreed, and that’s coming in January 2015. That leaves me one more book, which I am currently writing, Hooked-In.
Loving that book, but did realize I needed the first draft in three weeks. Fortunately the book was plotted out. I wrote the first draft in three weeks. 100 pages a week, multiple visits to the chiro because my arm swelled up and almost stopped working. Now the “Oh, shit,” feeling continues as I craft the novel, hopefully to its best form before November, when I need to write another novel in a month because my publisher wants more.
Oh shit.
