Late Again

Apologies for my late arrival today, I've been limping around trying to meet some writing deadlines. I say limping because a few days ago I tore the meniscus of my right knee in a freak trampoline accident (don't ask), so now I'm brandishing a cane and hobbling around my office. I'm told these things can be repaired (I'll find out more at a doctor's appointment today) or can even heal on their own, but I'm neurotic enough to fear the worst.

Maybe they're going to put me under and turn me into a cyborg. If they install a better processor in my brain so I can write faster, I'd be OK with that. That is one of the ironies of the writing world. When you're first trying to get published it seems to take forever. Years, perhaps, to write the manuscript. Months to find the right agent. And once the book sells, publishing moves at its own glacial pace, so the book your editor is really excited about, the one you just sold, won't hit the shelves for at least another year. Patience is not a virtue in my book, but stamina surely comes in handy.

But once you're on the publishing treadmill, deadlines loom and time seems to speed up. I'm still in denial that it's June, even though my new novel JUMP is on the shelves and I'm touring, but it hasn't registered because I had these grand plans to finish my next manuscript by now. I was going to tackle two or three other writing projects by the Summer, as well, but now that it's arrived I'm revising my forecast for a Fall delivery. And yet, if I really sit down and look at a calendar to remove the days of travel, family trips, editing, and conferences, it's practically September. Suddenly this slow-moving industry has me sprinting towards a finish line, which only becomes the starting line for the next race.

Have to get this leg fixed, because I really need to pick up the pace.