Why am I always in a damn motel with wifi when it's my turn to post? Ah well.
Okay, so earlier this month I finished the first draft of a work in progress and sent it to my editor. Since I turned it in rather before my deadline (a miracle it itself), she won't be able to get to it for a bit.
So now, for the first time in months, I have guilt-free free time.
And I hate it.
Seriously, in a month or so I'll be working on the rewrite, and every spare moment I'll be at my computer, reworking the story. And when I'm not, I'll feel guilty, knowing that this book won't fix itself. So right now, I can just enjoy these lazy hours. For the first time since summer, I actually watched TV by myself.
I can't stand this. Writing is what I do. It must be hard wired or something. And true, I guess I could start on something else, but I have trouble shifting mental gears, especially when I know I'll go back to the original work soon.
So I guess I have to be patient. My editor is quick to respond, and before I know it, I'll be free of this nasty spare time.
Either that, or I can quit my job. Now there's a thought...