I’ve got a deadline breathing down my neck.
Louder. More insistent. Its hot, wet breaths send a thread of panic through me, clutching at my stomach, eating away at what little patience I have left.
Its footsteps get closer.
And . . .
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I find more and more often these days, when deadline day approaches, I pretty much lose it. You’d think after 45 books, it wouldn’t phase me anymore. But it does. Oh my, it does!
I’m snappy and shrewish. So unlike me!
I’m eager to get things done and out of the way and off my plate. Even things I usually enjoy.
I want this book done NOW. But I want to take my time, too, and savor my clever ending, and not be too anxious to say goodbye to characters and a plot that I worked hard to hammer out.
This is Pepper Martin mystery #7, and I know there will be at least two more in the series, so at least I don’t have to say goodbye to a cast of recurring characters I know and love. That is some consolation.
So is the other biggie, of course. Even a hot-breathed, pushy deadline is better than no deadline at all!