So last Tuesday I submitted Exile to Apocalypse Ink. It’s the first thing I’ve written and submitted in a long while, and a project that’s been plagued by interruptions and unexpected turns to boot, so it feels good to have gotten the file through more-or-less on time. Especially since the last time I was going to get the book sent off, about twelve hours ahead of deadline, I dropped my laptop and wiped out about 18,000 words of text I didn’t have backed up anywhere else.
The stupidity of that still stings a little.
On the other hand, the submission of Exile means I’ve officially set off the great-2014-write-a-thon-where-Peter-remembers-how-to-be-a-writer-and-things. One novella down, a little behind schedule. A whole crap-load of things to go before the year is done.
For instance, after I drank Mango beer to celebrate the Exile submission, then started work on the three short stories I have to get done in April in order to meet some deadlines. I did some planning on Frost and Crusade, the novellas I’m due to be turning over to the AI folks in July and November, respectively, in order to make up the full trilogy of books they contracted me for.
Then I went and signed the paperwork for my mortgage, ‘cause I finally found an apartment that both looked spiffy enough to buy and passed through the approval processes I mentioned back in February.
My world, right now, is all writing and packing boxes, preparing to move in two weeks when the sale is finalised. ‘Course, once it’s done, I have my weekends back again, which means regular transmission will likely resume in May some time (basically, whenever the internet’s on after I move into the new Chez Ball).