If there’s one thing we writers never have enough of…
It’s time.
Words we got… thousands.
Coffee… by the potful.
Comfy bunny slippers… on automatic re-order from Amazon.
But time?
That’s as elusive as the instant bestseller.
I’m on autopilot this week until whenever to get it all together and bring my next Paris WW2 novel home for my publisher Boldwood Books. Amazing company. They take good care of their authors… fabulous marketing team… I love my editor, Isobel… and the company has won several ‘Best Publisher’ awards in the UK and is up for more awards this year.
And my fellow authors are like family to me.
But in the end, it’s up to me to write the damn book.
Sweat, tears… blood. Yes, I changed the order because I sweat the small stuff like commas and the big stuff like research which turns into major tears when I realize writing never gets easier but tougher (you demand more of yourself)… and blood because if you don’t bleed onto the page, you’re not giving it your all.
So, mes amis, tonight is the night we turn the clocks forward and lose the hour.
But guess what. I’ve decided to do something about it.
I’m going to type twice as fast for a solid hour (accuracy is another story) and write twice as many words and–
Voilà!
I’ve got my hour back… at least for tonight.
Tomorrow?
Well, that’s another day.
===============
Some great book news:
The trade paperback of my Paris WW2 novel THE LOST GIRL OF PARIS
is coming to THE WORKS stores in the UK… so check it out if you’re in the United Kingdom.
Listen to an excerpt in the video below…
E-book:
My heroine, Angeline de Cadieux, is a Roma girl in WW2 Paris… she’s strong, fights in the Resistance… makes exquisite perfumes and comes up with an amazing marketing campaign during the war to boost morale in France.
Thank you!
————–
And THE RUNAWAY GIRL is a Kindle Monthly Deal in Australia.
Thanks for listening… and now back to our regularly scheduled craziness.
Jina
I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve.
I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve.
I discovered early on that I inherited the gift of the gab from my large Irish family when I penned a story about a princess who ran away to Paris with her pet turtle Lulu. I was twelve.
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