It’s late Thursday afternoon. The Webguy taps my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Do you have this week’s blog post?” It takes me a moment, as I am so deep into what I’m writing that it sounded like, “Do you have a blocked nose?” After my brain sorted this out, I answered, “no.” He offered to write it, but I thought I would just come clean. I don’t have it because I’m in the ninth inning of my book.
For those that don’t watch baseball. I’m not close close, but really close. It’s along the lines of not dead dead, but pretty dead, as Mia would say. The first draft of The Long Game, that little stream that started off in a rainstorm, is still flowing. Right now it’s a raging river you can see from space. Okay, maybe an exaggeration, but whoa I’m into this book.
The plot has taken me to Hell and back, left me dripping with sweat, and hungry.
So please excuse the shortness of this. I’ll do better next week.