Yesterday was the 1st of July.
And I said I was going to start writing book 3 on July 1st, 1,500 words at least every day.
But - that's me on the left, the squashed rabbit with a load of work on his back.
Instead of the new book, I have to continue to deal with a whole lot of niggly little things in the last one, mending a few holes, dealing with a character flaw (not mine, someone in the book), etc. None of it is major, but almost all of it is time-consuming nonetheless because everything after the smallest of alterations has to be checked to make sure it still makes sense.
I bless my editors who notice these niggly little things and help make the story better, but it has thrown my schedule out.
This week and next week are full of irritating stuff too - have been doing all the chores that I have been putting off - some for a year or more - dentist, mammogram, pap smear, haircut, shopping for essentials like new business cards, repairs around the house, dealing with workmen, and so on. And sometimes things you think will be routine turn out not to be.
So the book did not start being written yesterday.
And I am flying off to USA on Friday next week to babysit 5-year-old grandson.
I have decided I am too old to pull all-nighters. Come to think of it, I think I am too old to have deadlines. Are there really people who retire at 60? What do they do?
Pix from here: one of Henry Rountree's Alice in Wonderland illustrations