In my dreams, a week dances tantalizingly just over the horizon. This week is filled with nothing. No appointments, no road trips, no phone calls. In my dream, I work at one of my three computers (the sitting down at the desk one, the standing up when my back is tired one, and the go-anywhere laptop one) all day, every day, and at the end of the week book #3 of the Simon & Elizabeth series, which is in bits and pieces at this moment, melds into a seamless story with a beginning, a middle, and and end that makes perfect sense for the reader.
That's the dream. Last fall, I promised myself January through March for writing, since we decided not to travel this winter. I'm not sure where January and February went, but March is speeding by and I've got
not one, but two trips on the docket.
So what do I do about those promises to stay home and write? I will do what most authors I know do: write in short bursts, take every available moment to get the story told, work to make it come together when I can.
And plan for a new dream: that April, May, or even June will provide that empty week that dances just ahead of me, tempting but always just out of reach.