Winter is my favourite–and most productive–season, but every once in a while I like spring, too. There’s a certain promise in the earth waking up after a long sleep. Most of the time, spring makes me feel a little weary, but this year I’m actually a weensy bit hopeful. Juggling several projects at once at least guarantees I’m too busy to feel helpless.
Yesterday the werewolf novella took off, dumping out plenty of wordcount. I’ve reached the point on the Sekrit Projekt where I have to go back to the beginning and pick up the threads, re-weaving and expanding them so I don’t miss anything and can make sure the fabric hangs correctly. This means the push for the end is nigh, and I couldn’t be happier. I’m getting to the point where I want that book done so I can pick up Afterwar revisions, not to mention do a few chapters of a romantic suspense the agent wants to see. There’s also the Fifteen Wings story, still bubbling in the back of my head. I don’t know quite what it is yet, fish or fowl or good red meat, but it wants to be born sooner rather than later. So we’ll see.
I am also doing an experimental trial of Kindle Unlimited, so if you’ve been looking to try Rose & Thunder out, there you go. There will be a heavy discount in the near future, and the werewolf novella will go into KU to gauge the market for shorter, more explicit pieces.
Last but not least, I finally opened a story file that made me physically ill, and it just made me tired and shaky. So that’s progress, I guess. I keep circling, wanting to finish it for myself, if no-one else. We’ll see what happens.
Before everything, though, there’s a run to get in today. Perhaps I’ll take a route past some tulips, and see if they’ve burst out yet. It’s good to watch the small changes as one passes by on foot. Firmly rooted in one place, finally, I can see the small things, and it pleases me.