The final crunch is about to descend on my next novel. My proofreader is devouring the final pages, pen in hand, but I’ll be the one clearing up all the typos and a couple of inconsistencies. In many ways, it feels great to have the book drafted and so close to being done. In other ways, not so much. I have another novel that I’ll resume work on almost immediately and a third one that’s half way through its editing cycle. And I know the editors might come back with changes on this book.

But you know what? That’s all part-and-parcel of being a novelist. Through all my years as a short story writer, I worked on novels. I finished two, had three in various stages, and more story ideas than I knew what to do with. (Oh, for a forty-hour day and endless energy!) However, until I had publishers to work with, I didn’t feel like a working novelist. A working writer? Yes. But not a working novelist.

I tell you, having a contract and deadlines make all the difference in the world. Each day, the workload before me is part of the avenue each book must travel to see publication. And like an avenue on a map, there’s starting place and a finishing line to the process. Before now, writing a novel was like a scenic hike done during one’s leisure time. It was enjoyable, rewarding, and worth the undertaking. But it had no real end point; the process had an intangible feel to it.

All that evaporated when Ravenous Romance signed me on for two books. And boy, does that feel nice.

BTW, Ravenous Romance has a new free short story, Hot Fling, on its site. Download and enjoy, please!