My weekend allergy attack has abated (that’s three weekends in a row), the sun is shining, I’ve got my eye on a good Sabbath rest–and tomorrow I’ve got to plunge back into my new book, Bell Mountain No. 13, The Wind from Heaven.
I just spent a week typing the four or five newest chapters and sending them in to my editor. I give her the book in pieces so she can stop me if anything goes haywire. So far, nothing has. The last bunch of chapters moved her to say, “This story is moving so fast, you’re gonna need a seat-belt to read it.”
I have absolutely no idea where it’s going. Events are piling up like storm clouds, the wind from Heaven’s blowing hard, and I’m just writing it down. I reckon I’m a little over halfway done. I’ve got to finish before the cold weather sets in. I defy anyone to write a decent fantasy novel indoors with the phone ringing every five minutes with a nuisance call. (Congress really ought to do something about that: it’s getting out of hand.) I mean, they’re still calling me to hit up Aunt Joan for money, and she’s been dead for a year and a half. But I digress.
How will this story climax? Where will the clouds finally burst?
When I find out, I’ll write it down.
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