Even after eight indie published books, I never quite realize how exhausting it is to write a novel. Even when the rough draft is finished, and I think I'm done, I can't ever really relax until revisions are complete and the book is in someone else's hands. In this case my adorable editor. It's almost like holding onto it, being the sole person responsible for it, eats away at me. It's a relief to send it on, but I'm also nail-bitingly anxious to know what someone else thinks of the story. I can never tell if I've written a good one. That's what my amazing beta readers are for.
It's my birthday next week, so if we can get this out by then it will be about the best birthday present ever. Also, this.
That's about it. I'll leave you with this.