I've been working on my novel for eleven years. Ten of those years saw four failed attempts--lengthy, sweaty, but failed.

Last year, I found the proper vehicle for the theme and I've been in my cave non-stop (except for quick jaunts to get food and such).

My comfortably small cavern has been aglow with planning, pre-publication promotion, more planning, outlining, beginning to actually write the book, lacerating the outline, watching a minor character demand a more important role in the plot (just like I've heard from many writers), studying more about book promotion, finding a copy editor, devising more ways to get feedback, deciding I wouldn't rush to publication (what some authors call letting the manuscript breathe and what I call giving myself more time for pre-publication promotion), planning my post-publication activities, and beginning to look for folks who will give me blurbs for the back cover.

I'm not the person I was before all this began...

Tomorrow, I have the much simpler tasks of getting ready for a trip to Chicago. I'll be attending a series of intense, spiritual/educational consultations that aren't directly tied to my book.

I'll be back to writing in this blog (along with all my other book-birth preparation tasks) on Monday.

I guess, for now, with all dignity and decorum, the only thing I can say is...