Late Sunday night, after a weekend consisting largely of marathon editing sessions, I turned in my Pathfinder Tales novel City of the Fallen Sky.
So… I’m done! No novels due for the next six months. No real fiction deadlines in the next few months at all, apart from a couple of short stories. I am faced with unprecedented-in-recent-months amounts of free time. (Naturally I’m tempted to start writing the new Marla novel, Grim Tides, except I think diving into another novel right away would kill me, or at least, damage my tender brain.) I’m thinking I’ll take it easy for a month or so. Read a lot. Hang out with the wife and kid. Play some video games. Try to remember what color the sky is in the real world. Should be good.
I don’t mind deadlines, but this summer has been an unspeakable nexus of deadlines, a configuration of brutal overlapping intensity, and now… the weight is lifted.
Tonight: beer and celebratory Chinese food. Not that I can afford Chinese food, really, but I turned in two novels in the past ten days, and those deliveries will trigger payments, and I signed a contract for another novel this week (can’t tell you about it yet), which will also lead to money in the near-ish future, so, screw it: I can splurge and order in.
Isn’t the writing life glamorous?
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