Guilt. That’s what I feel. I have one book contracted and scheduled to be released in February 2014, another book I’m revising, and… that’s it. According to my schedule, I should be at least 20k words into my next project. And I haven’t even outlined it.
One of my biggest problems is, apparently, my butterfly attention span. I loved my romantic mystery/suspense/thriller as I wrote it. I loved my contemporary romance as a I wrote it. (And I love them both still!) I have ideas for another mystery caper and a contemporary runaway bride situation, but unfortunately, right now my muse has turned all dark and angsty. It wants me to write something I haven’t written before. In a different POV. And in this day and age of trying to build an author platform, finding readers who usually read a specific genre and like to find writers in that same genre… it’s probably not a good idea for me to jump to another genre.
So that’s where I am this week–or I should say month. Maybe it’s okay right now not jumping into the next project with work bearing down on me now and the impending arrival of red-line edits (I expect a blood bath). Nothing inspirational to share with anyone. Just a long, self-indulgent whine.