Not going to lie, I have been doing just about everything in my power to NOT finish up my next book. Y’all. I’m like four hours of editing away from having it ready for beta readers and my copy editor will be right after. For real. I’m so close.
I don’t know if it’s fear that I’m not sure what will come next. Or if it’s just ADHD rearing it’s lovely centaur faced head at me, asking my brain to focus on LITERALLY ANYTHING else.
But I’m so close to finishing up what I set out to do three years ago. Write a trilogy of stand alone books that were in the same spirit. And I’ve done that. (Okay, I’m like extremely close to having done that). I’m about to have three books on my shelf that I created. Each with queer main characters who love their friends and family fiercely and set off to have grand adventures and make space for themselves and their weird hobbies.
None of the gays are buried and the trauma comes from the alien invasion or the demon octopus. I have the elevator speech tied up in a pretty little bow, as you can tell.
So now what? Do I keep with the YA. Venture into novellas. Take a beat to reassess? Not looking for answers just musing.
Figured writing a blog post is better than, I dunno, FINISHING MY FREAKING BOOK.
And I love my book. I do. Jean might beat out Chuck for my favorite book baby. (Gasp, I know). But it’s true. She’s smart and caring and has panic attacks and is into photography and her best friend is her sister.
So yeah, I’ll get around to it. Hopefully soon. In the mean time, thanks for reading. I hope you all are well.