It's the 26th as I sit here and write this out. I've spent the day working on the edits for the sixth Ranger book. Yep, the entire day. It's now back in the hands of my beloved editor hoping I came close to addressing the issues she pointed out.
What a year, right?
Last year, I said writing best friend romances were hard. Clearly, not hard enough as I wrote more this year. Will I ever learn? No, probably not.
By this time Dec 2018, I'd written one million words. I don't think I hit that this year. I quit keeping track earlier in the year, and honestly, I have no idea how many I wrote. My list of published titles now sits at twenty-six books and two boxed sets.
I have plans to pubish at least one a month in the new year. We'll see how long I last. Ha.
That whole trusting God thing didn't get any easier either. I think I trust Him more than I did, but not nearly as much as I should. I suspect I'll live my life in that perpetual state.
I still love writing, but I'm getting tired. There's only so many times you can arrange the alphabet into a fifty-thousand word novel without feeling a bit drained. This coming year, I think I need to learn how to balance things in my life.
One of the reasons I think I've pushed so hard is because, like I said last year, I think I'm pretty decent at this and as someone who has never been good at anything, I find it hard not to write. What if I take a day off and I'm not good at it anymore? Perhaps everyone feels that way from time to time.
I also commented that my skin had grown a little thicker, and I think maybe it's grown so over the last year. The same holds true. Not every person is for every book and not every book is for every person. That will never change and it's okay.
Here's to the New Year. May it bring you joy, love, and peace.