Sub titled: A sensible woman learns about Love, Lust, and Things That Go Bump in the Night
So, I decided to keep the title. Reason for that ridiculous decision? To be honest, I couldn't think of anything else. Pitiful I know, but it gets worse. I'm thinking about calling the next one Claire and the Self Centered, Egotistical, Rat Bastard. I can't wait to come up for a title for number three.
I have an excuse for not posting much on this blog lately; not a good one, but the only one I've come up with. If you would rather wait until I come up with a better one...
Okay! Stop yelling, sheese. It was only a suggestion.
The excuse has to do with the whole Molly novel thing. I have finished it. I think. No, I have definitely completed it. Probably, I'm almost certain it's done.
You see this isn't the first time I have finished it. It was done, I had edited it, formatted it, I had designed the perfect cover, and sent it off to be turned into a proof copy. Then I waited. The proof was only a formality. Nothing could be wrong with it, I had already read it a gazillion time looking for mistakes to fix.
I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and, well I'm sure you get the picture. I was certain they had mailed it by carrier snail. But it did finally arrive and I held in my sweaty hands a real book that I had written. All 370 odd pages. Some of it very odd. I couldn't wait to get to my room to start reading. I did pull out a highlighter, I mean There might be some minuscule mistake that had managed to slip past my vigilance.
By the time I had finished reading those 370 odd pages I had used up two highlighters and a pad of sticky notes. It seems that my minuscule mistake had turned into a flotilla of great big mistakes floating all over my pages.
All of that was thirty edits, 27 formats, and 42 fantastic new covers ago. I am now waiting for new proofs. Yes thats plural, I have got to beg someone else to read it and tell me what they think.