Well, okay, the end of August was always a long shot. I’m simply not one of those authors who can write a book in two weeks or a month. I never even try during National Write a Book in a Month. (Who are these people and do they ever shower?)
Anyway, after four months of not cooking dinner and wholing up in my room during every free moment, I’m finally done with the first draft.
I lovingly patted it’s pages (well, electronically anyway)and sent it off to the bow-tied one last night. I’m sure he will slaughter it with post haste and send me back the bleeding entrails to fix.
When we last talked on the phone about it, one of the first things he asked me was whether it was going to make him cry. I keep telling him that I write romantic comedies and people aren’t supposed to cry during those, but he doesn’t buy it. Since I wrote Just One Wish for him, he wants tears.
Actually, I’m sure it will make him cry–although maybe just because it wasn’t what he wanted after all and he had to wait four months for it.
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