Winter has decided to arrive after a very mild beginning. Snow and overcast skies make me want to turn on the fireplace and pull out a good ebook. Instead, I’ve included a photo of a tropical beach taken by an old friend to cheer things up.
I am, in what my sister describes as postpartum depression. My book, Malice & Murder (working title The Whisper), has been refined as suggested by my beta readers, I’ve read and polished repeatedly and now taken the giant step. It’s in the hands of an editor. A fresh, objective set of eyes. And it’s scary as hell.
This book has consumed almost every waking moment and now, I have time on my hands. House work awaits, I have revisions to begin, the process of editing on my novel awaits and I will be reconstructing my website, but I find myself at loose ends.
It stands to reason, I suppose, that after months of immersion in specific characters and situations, I miss them. It’s silly, I realize, but I do.
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