Not only am I sort of moderately ill, which, combined with the rain, has derailed many of my brilliant plans for the week, but I appear to have a case of post-novel ennui like you would not believe.
Writing books really empties out your brain.
This is a bit of a problem, as I still have the whole climax and resolution of New Amsterdam to go, and it's due Dec. 31.
Yanno what? I'm declaring a vacation until after Thanksgiving. My brain is empty and I am stupid and full of suck. Then I will write the two brief articles I have due in the first week of December, and then I will revise "Chatoyant and write "Lumière" (aka the end of New Amsterdam) and if I can't get excited about les loups de Paris and la bête du Gévaudan, dirigibles and treachery, it's time to hang up my hat.
After that, it's the Dust proposal by January 15th, and then the All the Windwracked Stars rewrite and a gonzo space opera novella by April 1.
If anybody told you the life of a freelance artist was all bonbons and games...
But it sure is fun.