Begin Again

Next book to come out is a novella, part one of a series of three, that deals with age play. New for me, but had fun writing it. I'm working with a new publisher as well and am eager to see how the cover turns out. Hopefully it will be available early next month. The tentative title is "Mr. Green's Girls", subtitled "Josey Tate" for the main character, but my editor may have a better idea for it.

I took a few days off from writing, partly to let the screaming in my wrists die down to a low whimper, but also to clear my head. I'm going from age play Daddy babygirl back to Dark Angel and need time to switch gears. Dark Angel is about to get reworked as well, going from first person to third in order to allow Joshua's POV to come into play, as well as a few of the other characters that insist they be more prominent in the story. It would be easier to leave it as is, and have it finished by the end of the month, but my gut tells me it will be a superior story if I make the change.

Of course this means I have to go back to the beginning and essentially rewrite the first four chapters that I'd written, re-written, edited, and wrapped up. A painful sacrifice to be sure, but I know I'll be glad I did it in the end.

STFU!

I don't write well with distractions. I don't know if I'm ADD or just unfocused, but when people keep popping up asking me idiotic questions, or banging pots and pans around, or mindlessly blathering at the dogs, I CANT. FUCKING. WORK!

I have a book that a publisher wants. It needs some changes... actually I've gutted it since they said they were interested. You would think that I'm lucky in that I no longer do the 9 to 5 thing. I'm home all day, I got plenty of time to write, right? 

FUCKING WRONG!

You may not know this but if you are home all day, you are obviously doing nothing important. Never mind the ad you've got to get to your boss in 2 hours, or the report that has to be turned in within thirty minutes. You're doing _nothing_ as far as everyone else is concerned, because you're not in some stuffy office somewhere choking in a tie or Spanx. Everyone wants to stop by and bs the time away. The kid wants to yammer endlessly about how fat so and so's hips are getting and how such and such was mean at lunch. Fifty texts come in, one every five minutes, to entertain you with whatever image your husband just saw on Chive.

When the exchange student finally goes back to Czech (6 weeks, 2 days, 9 hours, 28 minutes) I am moving my office into her bedroom, and I am not allowing the phone in there, and I am disconnecting the fucking doorbell. I will hang a sign on the door that says STFU ALL WHO COME NEAR.

And the rabble will still allow me to get nothing done.