I understand there are people who want to write A novel. I understand, in fact, there are people who write a novel. Heck, there are even — some of them are my friends — people who write A NOVEL AT A TIME.

Lucky sods.

Currently on the docket: the long running FINALLY got the voices right next book of the chronicles of Lost Elly: Orphans of the stars. The next Rhodes, Rhodes to Hell, ALMOST finished. A second regency romance (what? Shud up. The first, Lady Peacock, is at the final edit, maybe today, and will then be released). A JAFF, Double O Darcy, Winter Prince being played with to figure where it broke.

They all get a little bit done on them, if not every day then close to every day. Orphans is getting the biggest push, because otherwise it won’t let me sleep. (What’s known as the whip hand.)

And why am I doing that? Wouldn’t it be saner, not to mention less exhausting to finish one novel then do the others?

Well, yes. And I really really really wish I could, okay. But when I try, all of them shut up and months are lost. Trust me, I have done this.

So–

So nothing. I lump it. I could give you a list of novels that were written in tandem, or sometimes three at a time in the past.

Takes longer, sure, but compared to what? It’s not longer than stopping writing all together.

Still….

I’m so jealous of people who write a novel at a time.

As for my process, the best that can be said for it is that if it’s crazy and it works, it’s not crazy.

Except every time, I’m terrified it won’t work.

And yet, it’s what I have.

Back to juggling the live chain saws. Before one falls wrong.