the tail lights disappear over the horizon. The child that she had given birth to so many years ago was leaving the nest, and making her way into the great, wonderful, terrifying unknown. This mother shed no tears for her baby whom she had sent off with blessings and a heart-felt desire that the child succeed in her endeavors. No, she could only smile at the rightness of all of it. Hugging herself, she turned on the porch and, with measured steps, entered the quiet house. Squaring her shoulders, she climbed the stairs. With resolution, she opened a door on the end of the hallway.
"Now it's your turn," she declared with a loving sparkle in her eyes.
The Jinx is completed. The galleys have been finalized, approved, and sent back to the publisher. I wait now for a release date.
On the day which I received the final galleys for The Jinx, I also received the first round of edits for my second contracted work The Preacher's Boyfriend.
This is a different editor-Julia Thornhill. She has sent me the entire edited manuscript. Corinne MacGregor, who edited The Jinx, edited chapter by chapter. Though working through the entire book seems like a daunting task, I'm having a ball with it. The biggest headache is having a life outside of my fictitious worlds! But my real babies need cuddling, reading to, feeding, and such. My imaginary babies survive very well being put on hold while I enjoy the calling, and let's face it, the privilege of family, friends, and work.
What will my next big news be? Either a release date for The Jinx or a cover for The Preacher's Boyfriend.
I have a deep affection for all of my friends who care enough to check up on me in the blog-all two of you. I won't be corny enough to type a verse or two of any James Taylor song about friends. I will only say if you buy my book, I'll get about 50 cents. The next time I see you, I'll find the nearest drink machine and buy you a coke. Then we'll be even. Unless that drink machine charges 60 cents. Then you'll owe me a dime. And if that nearest drink machine has those big twenty ounce deals, you'll owe me a dollar. If the drink machine takes my money, I'll write a note to the machine owner, and you'll owe me 41 cents for postage. Well, I think you might actually owe me 43 cents because someone told me postage is going up next month, and my book probably won't be available until the fall anyway. Now, if I happen to find a dime and a nickel in the change receptacle, I will take 15 cents off of what you owe me.
And after that, we really will be even.