Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Deadlines Are Good for Me

The good news is that I've settled into this new lifestyle of mine well. I'm rested, more healthy, and more engaged with friends and life. I'm actually able to contemplate (and consider enjoying) coming events and family visits.

The bad news ... well, there isn't much, except for needing a little more income than I'm getting. But I'm working on that, too.

The best news, however, is that I'm actively working on the next Kate book again, and I worked out some deadlines with my editor. Yes, deadlines. Because they work for me.

It's that overachiever problem again. If I know a deadline is actually reasonable, I will meet it (and usually I'll be early).

(Side note: if I'm handed an unreasonable deadline, I'll just get angry. See: former day job.)

So now I've got deadlines, which is a good thing. Because now I'm accountable to more people than just myself, and I can set myself measurable goals every day. I think that's one of the problems for me with writing a novel.

The goal: write a novel. There's planning to do. Outlining. Character profiles. Plotting. And then the writing of somewhere between 90,000 and 100,000 words. Then editing that down to 85,000-90,000. Starting to write a book feels like staring up at a mountain and knowing I need to reach the top.

But usually, fortunately, once I get partway up, I can stop and find some structure. Make a plan. And know when I'll finish—necessary, since my publisher actually likes to plan for a release. If you can imagine.

Bottom line: Kate #4 (working on a title) should be out a year from now, April 2016. It's set at the Grand Prix of Long Beach, and I hope to do some fun promotion around the actual race coinciding with the book release.

I'm leaving you with some photos from the Long Beach race to hold you, including one of me and my friend Barb in the pits of the race winner, Scott Dixon.


  1. Yay! I tend to idle until deadlines "make shit real" in both day job and fiction. So deadlines are actually good! Go Tammy#