Happy August

You want to know what's sad?

I thought I'd have Mabel done by now. I thought I would be editing. I thought I would doing whatever publishy stuff was needed to possible receive ten bucks, or maybe a coffee mug for it. Instead I'm still chugging.

Granted, this manuscript is much longer than I ever planned it to be. In my brain months and months ago, Mabel was around three hundred pages.

I burst out laughing.

Three hundred pages? That's a riot.

Now that Lawrence has a character, Pin-pin has a back story, and there's more than one Charm-catcher on the run, I'm going to break four hundred pages. I'm rubbing my hands together. I can feel it.

God, what is wrong with me?!

This always happens... Always. When I wrote my first novel, a fantasy project called Serango, back in high school, I thought it would be one book with one linear storyline. I got carried away, created three major storylines and wrote two books. (Still thinking about that third...) I'm terrible. It's not just with stories. Whenever I write an essay, it's twice as long as I plan it. I suppose this means I'm a terrible judge of length.

Well, if anyone else ends up liking Mabel, I guess this means they'll be happy I wrote more... Or an editor will want to eat my liver with some fava beans... and a nice chianti.