Is it wrong that I'm thinking with longing about my next book while trying to finish this one?
Ah, for a nice fresh book to write. Maybe an easier one!
The other day, I found myself wishing I was sick -- that kind of childhood-sick where you get to stay on the couch all day with a bunch of quilts and movies and someone brings you ginger ale and kisses you on the forehead. Doesn't that sound nice?
Okay, back to it. . .