What I was supposed to be doing this summer

I really intended to write my next novel this summer. Really. I have it all outlined. I even tweaked the outlined last week and diagrammed characters, settings, and the like. I did.

But life happens. I have all my kids and the stupendous Mr. Klempner all home this summer, and we’ve been busy tidepool-hopping and museum-visiting and swing-pushing and the like. Also, I had a few deadlines to meet on short pieces, so I haven’t been lazy.

Really.

It might be more realistic to keep outlining and diagramming until the kids all head back to school. At that point, I should have more time to sit at the computer and crank out 1,000 words a day. Plus, I want to set aside an hour a day to revise the recently-rejected previously-completed novel. Then I can justify agent hunting.

I’m trying to be patient with all the interruptions and distractions. Just one more month to go, and I should have plenty time to write.

At least, that’s the theory.

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