- Finishing up my 3rd novel, Dragon Souls, which is a modern-day fantasy/adventure featuring young witches, 300 year old sorceresses, dragons, ogres, magic, and a ton of mayhem. The ending popped into my head just a few days ago, and it's got me writing into the early morning hours. My running schedule has taken a hit because of it.
- Started outlining my second romance novel, Bellisima (working title), where a young woman in her twenties attends a funeral for someone she doesn't know, to support a grieving friend, and meets the guy of her dreams, her friends brother. But, can she be with him? Is it too awkward? Is his sorrow the trigger for these emotions or is it really love? Will the physical abuse of her past relationship keep her from moving forward, or is it too soon?
- Then there is Sleeping Daisies (working title), a story of how far a mother will go to save the lives of her three young daughters. This story makes me happy and sad. I have the outline, and most of it written in my head, but I feel it will be so much more emotional than I care to describe here. This will be a tear jerker.
Now, when I say "working on" I say it loosely. All summer I have struggled with getting in a few hours of writing a week. I'm one of those people who need total silence, or a constant type of humming sound such as a running air conditioner or frogs creaking. These were hard to come by since I spent the summer with my two kids at the beach, pool, sprinkler park, playground, out somewhere under the sun or in the house with televisions, Wii or Xbox blaring. Not to mention the kids asking for lunch, bananas, cookies, ice cream, "Whatcha doing Mom?" or "Where's my green shirt?" or "Can I use the computer to watch a video on an Xbox game?" (Seriously, my kids watch youtube videos to get better at MineCraft, Lego Indiana Jones, and more) Every time they walked towards me, by me, around me, or even just to another room in the house, I expected some sort of request. It's like the second shoe would just not fall!
But that's what I asked for when I took this gig...and I'm sure I'm going to look back at these summers fondly. Even those moments when I call my kids names and they don't respond...those panic-stricken seconds that collect into a pool of frightening reality when you realize they're not even in the house! I took just a few seconds to make a turkey sandwich and didn't keep an eye on my son as he kicked the soccer ball over the fence, across the street and down the block. He felt he was big enough to go get it, unsupervised, and just went for it without letting me know.
He's only six...apparently he was big enough.
Five days and counting...