Secret Origins

 

Challenge update: no real progress since my last entry. Hopefully, that’s about to change. The paid work went out last week, the side project’s almost done, and bad weather has forced mowing the lawn to the back burner. I’ve still got the procrastination issues, but have a better handle on what’s causing them. Dealing with and conquering them is a whole other problem. For example, I’m writing this blog instead of writing the book. Still, it’s not playing computer card games, so it’s a step in the right direction. Once this is done and posted, I’ll see about typing up some longhand. Or go take a shower. When it comes to self-improvement, still a work in progress here.

***

Today we return to the topic of, “Where do you get your ideas?” As we learned a couple weeks ago, the side project came out of two unrelated flash scenes that my brain decided went together like peanut butter and chocolate. Or chocolate and peanut butter. Either way, that Reese’s Cup of a book is very nearly done, so clearly Brain had its neurons together on that one.

The series, on the other hand, grew out of another problem of mine, a case of advanced sequelitis. More often than not, something I write sparks ideas for sequels, continuations, spinoffs and updates. This particular one falls under the subheading “spinoff.” To understand its origins, we need to go back to 2011 and the not-quite-a-trilogy that gave birth to my latest literary headache.

I’ve always read in a number of genres—mystery, romance, some mainstream, Stephen King (he’s in a class by himself)—but my main fix was science fiction/fantasy. Up until the early 2000s, I considered myself a writer of that last, though every now and then I considered writing a romance, mostly for a few extra bucks. I know of at least two (female) SFF writers who churned out the occasional gothic back in the ‘60s to help put food on the table. Probably some guys, too. Category romances were short, straightforward, and could be whipped up in a couple of weeks if you put your mind to it and didn’t stop to do housework. Then, as now, earning a living as a writer wasn’t easy.

But it wasn’t until the erotica ebook explosion that I seriously got into the game. A publisher advertised for stories for a paranormal anthology. Fantasy romance. Only half out of my wheelhouse. I sent in a story and got rejected. I sent the story to a second publisher and this time got a contract—and, eventually, royalty checks. I was on my way!

I kept to the fantasy/paranormal subgenre in my next couple books (write what you know). Then one night I scribbled a flash scene involving a reporter interviewing a human who’d been raised by vampires. Interesting premise, but not enough to hang a book on. It needed something else. That turned out to be me answering a question never raised in vampire romances: “How to the guys, um, function if they’re technically dead?” The answer was, by overeating. A vampire who takes in too much blood at once gets horny to the point he or she needs to have sex or they die. My nascent romance dealt with a human woman working in a brothel that catered to paranormal creatures, and the vampire client she falls in love with.

And then the plot took a major swerve when I became obsessed with the TV show Supernatural. My prostitute suddenly switched to male, and I became a writer of paranormal M/M. If you’ve ever read my book Belonging (hint), take a close look at my description of Jeremy. I got into the show because of Castiel, but writing that book turned me into a Sam girl. Cas had a blink-or-you’ll-miss-it cameo as the slayer who attacks Jeremy’s vampire family. There were other minor jokes scattered in there as well, including the one that eventually led to me struggling to write an eight-book series. I’m leading up to that.

(Disclaimer: I want it known that I’d already finished the book and was about to sub it to the publisher when they aired the episode where Dean was turned into a vampire. I was not ripping them off. It was sheer coincidence. Though to me that scene where Dean cleans out the vampire nest will always be Wally’s assault on the brothel. More coincidence. Must have been something in the air. I can’t explain that line in the later episode where the girl says to Sam, “Maybe you’re a hooker.” Or the one a couple seasons later, where Crowley referred to Sam and Dean as “the Scarecrow and the Tin Man.” No one ever took me to court for plagiarism or copyright infringement. Maybe I’d better shut up while I’m ahead.)

Anyway. A year after that (my procrastination issues go way back) I wrote a sequel, Legacy, to answer the question, “Can the undead have children?” where Wallace and Jeremy add a woman to their growing flock. There was more of Cas, AKA the Preacher, in this one. Two side characters, Gus and Annie Stanton, also had larger roles. Annie was that joke I mentioned earlier. She was originally Anna from season 4, which is where she got her long red hair, but when I started writing her dialogue I heard a Texas accent, more fitting to an Annie than an Anna. She and her husband Gus were old friends of Wally’s, from their days as a slayer team, until the two got married and left the slayer biz. At this point they were in their 50s, having aged like normal humans, unlike vampire Wallace. I got a few nudges to complete their story, in a future where the orphaned girl they adopted grows up, but nothing ever came of it.

Nothing ever came of my intended sequel either, which would have told Preacher’s story. I tried, but couldn’t quite make it work and eventually abandoned it. However, there was one scene where the love interest, a vampire/human hybrid woman (introduced in Legacy) is researching slayers on the internet. She comes across a mention of the Colts, a family of Texas cowboys who double as vampire slayers. I chose “Colt” as a nod to the Winchesters, and made them Texans because Jared and Jensen are both Texas boys. My obsession with the show had begun to fade by then, but the in-jokes didn’t have to.

Wait. Whoa. Hold on thar, pardner. Wasn’t Annie, my retired slayer, from Texas? Stanton was her married name. What if she’d been born a Colt?

And just like that, I had a premise for a series. Long ago, in the wake of the Civil War, vampires invaded Texas and were turned back by the Colts. A century later (1960s) the suckers tried again, and were repelled again, this time with a teenaged Annie as part of the defense. Afterward Annie left Texas, became a slayer, married Gus and retired from monster hunting. But now, in yet another century, the bats are back again. Now widowed, with her children grown and nothing to look forward to but a retirement home, Annie returns to Texas to help her kinfolk fight off this latest attack. Because that’s what the Colts are all about.

Naturally, procrastinating me only fiddled with this and didn’t get around to any actual writing until around last year. Why now? Because I could use a couple of extra bucks, and the publisher likes series books with lots’a hot sex and multiple partners. Sure, I can do that. Also because the books that gave rise to this idea have a clause in their contracts, giving the publisher right of first refusal on any book I write that shares characters, locales, themes or concepts with books they’ve published. Since Annie appears in the series, I’m under contractual obligation to offer it to them first. I have no problem with that. I don’t mind having all related books under one publisher’s banner. Now I don’t have to spring for editing or covers. Those get expensive, and like I said, making a living as a writer isn’t easy.

I’ve got the plot; I’ve got the characters; I’ve got ideas. I’ve got the time. All I need to do is write the thing. Which brings us back to my procrastination issues, which I’m still struggling with. Yeah well. No one ever said life was easy.

Chipping Away at the Wall

 

Where we left off last week: Having run into issues on my year-long personal writing challenge—an inability to successfully launch after two weeks being the biggest obstacle—I decided to regroup and approach it from another angle. This time when procrastination hit, I’d ask myself why I couldn’t get this thing off the ground, and figure out ways to trick my pesky subconscious into getting out of the way so I could accomplish a long-held dream of not only writing, but making some money at it. I’ve been published several times over the years, but never been able to stick with it long enough to build any kind of real success. Something always got in the way, like having a job. Or having to look for a job after a layoff so I could have a home and regular meals. Starvation really puts a crimp in creativity.

Now I’ve got a home-based job with flexible hours and enough income to survive on, so the outside issues are dealt with. That leaves the inner problems, which is what the challenge is now all about: identifying the little psychological bastards so I can ice them and get on with the job of telling stories for fun and profit. More for fun at this point. One step at a time.

For the writing itself, I set up a schedule: morning for my own writing, afternoon for any paid assignments, evenings to either do a bit of extra work or just unwind and read or something. Housework, yard work and grocery shopping to be shoehorned in during fallow periods. I marked the calendar to commence bright and early Monday morning.

Dr. Phil: “How’s that working for ya?”

Ehhhh…writing-wise, it didn’t. Somehow I kept blowing off the morning hours. Not as far as the side project was concerned, though. That continued, but my progress slowed to a trickle. It’s nearing its end and I can feel myself dragging my heels. The series fared even worse. I’d sit at the laptop completely unable to write. Unplugging the WiFi didn’t help, so I’d plug in and check my email and usual sites and that was pretty much it until noon. I didn’t touch the series at all last week. The paid work didn’t fare much better. I’d do a little bit, then goof off. Or leave the house entirely to get groceries or pay bills. Next thing you know, it’s dinner time. My work-brain tends to shut down around 4 anyway, so very little ever gets done in the evening, unless I’m forced by a looming deadline.

Then there was the day I spent the entire time playing computer games and didn’t touch the writing or the paid work. Except for the side project, which isn’t on the computer. The less said about this day, the better.

I did discover I have no problem working if I tie up the WiFi playing background music. Back in the days of vinyl I always had the stereo on while typing, so music plus work is ingrained. And I may have caught a glimpse of what could be going on in my head that’s keeping me from higher achievement.

Yes, fear of success and/or failure and just plain laziness haven’t been ruled out yet. But it’s possible my current biggest problem is an inability to multitask.

I’ve tried in the past to work on more than one thing at a time. It’s never been successful. Once I’m caught up in a project, I want to see it through nonstop to the end. I can’t seem to balance writing and working a job at the same time. Especially if that job consists of lots of reading. My brain wants to concentrate on one or the other. I can’t give up the job because I still need the income, but when the assignment’s done I can’t write because I’ve lost my momentum with the story. Or at least that’s my excuse. Like I said, I had no trouble working on the longhand side project every day. In fact, there were days I used that as my excuse not to work on the paid stuff until later in the day, endangering the deadline and often forcing me to put off writing so I could get the work out and get paid. You see how insidious this becomes after a while?

And I wanted to throw the series into this toxic mix? What the hell was I thinking? Of course that wasn’t going to work. For starters, once I’ve done a longhand session, Brain decides I’ve done my writing for the day and shuts that portion down. What? You want to do more? Why? Brain is a lazy beast. So I turn to the paid work, but now I’m bored and resentful. So I go play games or watch YouTube. And that’s how I end up stressed and panicking as the Dreaded Deadline Doom approaches and I need to do an all-day slog so I can keep paying for the WiFi that’s distracting me. It’s a vicious cycle, all self-inflicted.

One of my many self-help books calls this “avoidance behavior.” You’re faced with two or more choices, none of which really appeal to you, so you respond by choosing “none of the above.” This is how I ended up playing games that one whole day last week. I had plenty of time in the morning to work on the series. I could have gotten a couple of hours in, taken a break, then worked on the paid stuff. Instead I decided, “Just one game and then I’ll get to work.” One game became roughly five hours of accomplishing absolutely nothing. I didn’t even top my high score. But I successfully avoided both writing and work, which I’m sure was Brain’s intention. I’d already written something in the morning, so that made everything okay.

No, it doesn’t. Brain, I’m calling shenanigans.

I’ve also identified another bad action that sly little dick has pulled on me. Part of the reason I can’t get going is because this time around I chose to write the series in sequence. Last time I was writing the books out of order because I couldn’t get Book 1, the all-important (and therefore intimidating) series opener, to work. And I still can’t. The whole thing is logjammed now  because Brain doesn’t want to write Book 1 or work on the paid stuff. Brain has thrown in the towel. That’s not helping anybody, so I’m going to have to step up and take charge.

This week, I’m going back to the schedule, but with a changeup: I’m returning to writing the series out of order. Books 2 and 7 were working, so I’ll go back to them. Once I’m done with the side project, Book 1 will become the new side project, to be written longhand away from the laptop and all its distractions. I’m not going to worry about importance or perfectionism or any of that shit. I’m just going to scrawl on the page until I’ve got a story, which is pretty much how I wrote the other side project. Just get something down on paper that I can work with. Part of the problem is Book 1’s tone is different from the other volumes; I realize now the others are part action, part romcom, while Book 1 was slower paced, like a horror story. I also have a better grasp of the characters in the other books than I do of the people in Book 1. Book 1’s cast is going to reappear in Book 5, where something truly horrible happens to one of the heroes. That may also be a source of stress. However, another source of stress will be removed shortly, since my deadline for the paid work is this Friday and nothing else is on the schedule yet. I may get a week off from “work” to establish better writing habits. And clean the house and stock up on groceries so I won’t have to go out during work hours.

Can I pull this off? I think so, but given my past behavior I’m going to have to say, “This may take a while.” That’s fine. I give myself permission to fail until I finally succeed. Another behavior I started last week was paying attention to my posture. I’ve been walking around the house with my back straight and head up, and it really does make me feel better. More energetic. So “Fake it till you make it” is actually a thing. Though all this will need to start tomorrow because I just ate up my morning session writing this blog. I hope somebody will find this helpful. Especially me. Happy writing!

If She Be Worthy

 

“Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor”

--inscription on Mjolnir (or Jonathan, if you believe Paul Rudd)

Okay then. It’s been over a week since I announced my year-long challenge to myself to write a paranormal romance series (eight books) in a year. In order, not hopping around piecemeal like I have been. Since the challenge’s inception (September 20) to today (October 1) my progress has been…

Pretty much zilch.

I think I maybe looked at the typed-up beginning of Book #1 once. Did some minor spot edits. That was it. The side project, on the other hand, has been chugging along at a steady pace. That one’s wrapping up, though, and may be finished in another two weeks if I really put my mind to it.

That’s the thing. Had I “really put my mind to it” two-three years ago, when I first decided to write the series, it would be done, out on the market and (hopefully) selling by now, and maybe I’d have the money to re-floor the bathroom and not have to worry about possibly needing to pay for updated eyeglasses in November. Or a new couch, after the old one shoved out a nail that caught me in the leg one night. Trips to the emergency room for stitches and a tetanus shot ain’t cheap.

So, in addition to wanting to tell the story, I’m heavy financially motivated to get this written and out. I’ve got the overall story arc, general plots and characters for all eight books. I know how the story begins and ends. I’ve even got a handful of standalone sequels waiting in the wings with bated pages. All I have to do is write the thing.

So why can’t I?

I’ve tried. Several times. Book #3 is done. That one was easy. That one also wasn’t supposed to exist, but I just loved the characters. I started Book #1. It stalled. I jumped to Book #2. Most of that’s written, but in longhand. I went to type it up and it stalled. Book #4 ran into plot and character problems and will need to be revamped and re-started. Book #7 was going great guns for a while but…yeah.

I put it aside while I focused on the side project, which gave me no trouble at all. Maybe because it had no sex scenes in it. I have trouble writing sex scenes and tend to skip them in first draft. But sooner or later they have to be written, because that’s really what sells the books. Maybe I shouldn’t be writing erotic romance. These days I don’t seem to want to write anything.

What did I do over the past week? Not much. I had a paid assignment that needed to get out. I had plenty of time to do that too. I’d have had it done early if I hadn’t blown off several hours a day playing video games. That’s another problem that’s cropped up over the years. I sit down at the laptop to write or to work and instead hop over to a game site and start playing. Or hang out on YouTube and watch videos. Or get up and watch TV. Or take a nap. It used to be just to avoid writing, but now the procrastination is encroaching on the paid work, and that’s the part that scares me. If I lose this job without some kind of backup, I’m going to be in deep doodoo.

It’s not lack of time, or a dearth of ideas, or even a flooded market. I know the series has a guaranteed home waiting for it. Not to mention there’s always self-publishing, so deadline pressures are non-existent. So is rejection, for that matter.

And yet, something’s keeping me from simply sitting down and writing, or working, and it’s getting stronger. It kept me from writing this blog for three days. It had me playing games until midnight last night. It appears to be triggered by sitting at the laptop because I have no trouble writing longhand. Unfortunately everything’s digital now, so the laptop’s a necessary evil. So is WiFi, which is where YouTube, the games, and all the other pretty shiny distracting things are. I used to be limited in WiFi access by the library’s hours, but Covid shut everything down and forced me to get home WiFi so I could keep getting work and keep getting paid. Thanks for nothing, pandemic.

I’ve already figured out the general procrastination is just a symptom of an underlying problem. Something lurking in my subconscious hears me proclaim I’m going to do something in league with my lifelong dreams, like write a book or lose weight or even mow the lawn and it says, “Oh no you ain’t,” and throws the urge to do literally anything else in my way. Anything that will waste time better spent being productive, that is. And more often than not, I go for it. I abandon the road to success in favor of the easy path of work avoidance. Three to eight to sometimes ten hours later I get up, berate myself and call it a day. Another wasted day.

Having a dream is commendable. But it doesn’t happen on its own. You have to make it happen. You need to do whatever it takes to achieve the goals that will make your dream come true. If you don’t, if all you do is talk and then instead of working go play games or watch TV or something equally time-sucking, maybe you should reassess your dreams. It may turn out you want something else, something you will be willing to work for.

Or it could be a lack of confidence. Maybe you don’t think you deserve a life of success and financial freedom. You may have been told that by others or simply told it to yourself, often enough that you come to believe it. Especially if you’ve got your heart set on a non-traditional vocation, like something in the arts. Skill can take you only so far; the rest relies on luck and talent. Have you truly got what it takes? Are you truly worthy of your dreams?

The only way to find that out is if you take your shot. Tell those voices, real and inner, to go take a flying leap and then get to work. The games can wait. You can’t. Every day that passes is another day lost forever, and their number is always dwindling.

It won’t be easy. That inner voice especially can be malicious. You’ll need to work extra hard to shut that fucker up. There are plenty of tricks and tips for avoiding the procrastination traps your subconscious will try to set for you. Here’s where the Internet actually proves its worth: a Google search will help you find a ton of them and you can experiment until you find the one(s) that work for you. As long as you don’t use researching procrastination and its causes and cures as an excuse to procrastinate. That’s obviously counterproductive.

Bottom line, it’s action that ultimately wins the day. You may need to work on yourself before you find you can work on hitting your goals. Prove to yourself that you’re worthy of the life that you imagine.

Which is why I’m altering the goals of the challenge a bit. I’m still going to work on the series, but writing it for publication (and money) is no longer the end I’m aiming for. I’ll be doing this to try to figure out what’s been holding me back all these years, so I can finally deal with it and stop being such an underachiever. Show myself, if no one else, that I am indeed worthy to wield this talent I’ve been given, and that I can reap monetary benefits from it. Will I succeed? Haven’t a clue. We’ll know by next September.

Here’s a trick to get us both started. My first two laptops came with games on the hard drive and no way to remove or block them, so I was pretty much up the creek. This latest laptop doesn’t, but the Internet does, and I’ve now got 24/7 Internet access. That’s easy enough to get around, though: just unplug the WiFi. Problem solved. The writing and the work files are on the hard drive and unaffected. When I do need Internet while I’m working (for email and fact-checking) I go to YouTube or Spotify and run background music, which ties up the system and keeps me from getting bored with work and jumping over to the games. If I need to fact check, I write myself a note and come back to it when I’m done, then shut off the laptop before I can get distracted by anything else. Then go write longhand. Or read a book. Or get out of the house and take a walk. Staying healthy gives you more energy and lessens the negativity that leads to procrastination. Two birds, one stone. Happy writing!

 

The Year of Writing Dangerously

 

Okay, let’s do this one last time (props if you can identify that quote):

Whoa. Has it really been a year since I was here last? Time we fixed that, don’t you think?

I thought so. The last year has been spent mostly working, dealing with (possible) depression and procrastination issues, and writing a book longhand so I wouldn’t get distracted by all the shiny objects on the Intranetz. That book, by the way, wasn’t one of the ones I had planned for that paranormal romance series I’ve been talking about since, oh, around the dawn of time. After I started three different books in the same series and found myself blocked on all three, I switched gears, picked up a pen and notebook and wrote something completely off the wall in an entirely different genre. I figured I needed a break.

Jump ahead to the past weekend. The side project is wrapping up, and even though it’s got a ton of work to go before it’s market-ready, I’m damn proud of it. I started dipping my toes in the series water again, this time going back to Book #1. (I’d already completed Book #3 about two years ago. Books #1, 2, 4 and 7 got started but petered out on me.) With one project wrapping up, I’ve got a decision to make: take another stab at the series, or go on to something else? Or both? Or neither?

Or finally quit the futzing around, knock off the procrastination BS, and commit to being a writer. It’s been my dream, I’ve got the time, I’ve got the income, I’ve got ideas, and it’s not like I’m getting any younger.

And so was born my own personal challenge: over the next year, from September 20, 2022 to September 20, 2023, I’m going to kick the excuses to the curb and actually sit down and write, with publication as my endgame. The main goal will be the completion of the paranormal romance series, all eight volumes of it. With an average book length of 35K-40K words, eight books in twelve months is doable. And expected, if you want to make it in e-book publishing. I picked the series because I know it has a home waiting, so I don’t have to stress about queries and agents and stuff. Those issues I’ll save for the side project, which will be entering the market cold, possibly under a brand-new pen name. I also have a couple other possible side projects waiting in the wings, aimed at the YA market. Just in case I need a break to keep me fresh and productive.

This blog will be my journal of this year-long attempt at writing success, providing an ongoing kick in the pants to make sure I stay on target. This is how I’m going to hold myself accountable. Writing is hard, and the world is not supportive. The world doesn’t care what you do. You have to make the world care, by caring about your dreams and goals and not giving up for anything. That means planting the butt at the keyboard and committing stories to screen instead of playing Spider Solitaire all afternoon. If you want your dreams to become your reality, sacrifices must be made.

I also want to talk about the side project: its origins, its evolution, how it surprised me and re-energized me and helped me to stretch and grow as a writer. (I think I can identify themes now. Yay!) I’m going to need frequent reminders that there will be bad days, sleepless nights, highs balanced out by lows (and vice versa), ups and downs and monotonous flatlands, writer’s blocks and manic stretches, and plenty of darkness before the light of dawn. Any and all positive solutions I find to the negatives, I’ll record here. If someone else can learn from my ignorant stumbles, so much the better.

I can’t promise how often I’ll post. I’m aiming for weekly. We’ll play it by ear. I’ll try to keep topics writing-related, but any subject is fair game. Who knows? Some off-the-wall topic could spark an idea for a story. That’s how the side project happened. Maybe I’ll talk about that next. See you soon, and happy writing!

Are We There Yet?

Yes, I’m still here, more or less. And still writing. You’d think with Covid keeping us homebound for the last year or so, I would have had plenty of time to work on that series I talked about—what, maybe ten years back or something? Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but when you write as slowly as I do it can feel like that sometimes. Sooner or later, however, things get done. Maybe.

So why isn’t my series finished yet?

This next part’s going to contain a lot of excuses, so I’ll do you a favor and mark when it’s over. When you get bored, jump down to the bolded bit. I won’t mind.

To recap: I needed to pay for a new air conditioner, so I decided to write a romance series about a family of Texas cowboys who double as vampire slayers. It’s a closed series, meaning the collected books tell a single long story, with individual books being the “chapters.” I actually plotted for once and decided I’d need eight books in all: seven romances and the big wrapup. Got my characters, got my plot, got to work and whipped out a book in (for me) record time.

Unfortunately, it was Book #3. Yes, I know. Most people start with Book #1. And I would have, but I really liked the characters in Book #3, and the plot took off and I couldn’t wait to work on it every day, and next thing you know I’ve got a finished draft. Yay!

And almost immediately ran head on into a writer’s block.

Now, I’m a slow writer to start with. There are writers out there who can do 5000 or more words a day, day after day, week after week. They’re the ones you’ve heard of because they publish a book per month. Plus sidebar stories. And they still have time left over to chat with people on Twitter. My hat is off to them, because I will never be among their number. I’m lucky if I can hit 1000 words in a day. Skipping housework doesn’t help me, either, because I do that anyway.

I started Book #1. Hit a snag and couldn’t go on. Started Book #2. Made good progress—I liked the characters, the plot was shaping up, two side characters did something that even I wasn’t expecting—

Then I got to the sex scene. Stopped me dead. I tried going back to Book #1. Nope, no luck there. I wrote random scenes from further up the plotline. Started Book #4, realized it wasn’t working, let that one peter out. Then Covid hit and I had to get home WiFi because the library shut down and I needed Internet access to download files for my freelance job. With everything closed and home WiFi, I didn’t even need to leave the house.

So I…didn’t write. I watched a lot of videos on YouTube. I watched TV. I took naps. My off-and-on video game addiction flared up with a serious vengeance. Looking back, I was probably depressed. Or overwhelmed by the notion of coordinating an eight-book opus and making sure all the plot threads worked. Or lazy. It’s often hard to tell. Procrastination is a problem I’ve wrestled with for years.

Okay, enough of this shit. HERE ENDETH THE WHINING.

The good news: after almost a full year of farting around, I’m back on track again. I started writing longhand and lo and behold, it’s working out. Probably because a sheet of lined notebook paper offers way fewer distractions than the Internet. The female lead started coming to life, and just this morning I decided the male lead looks like Gerald McRaney, a fave of mine from the ‘80s. He’s a werewolf in a cowboy hat with a moustache and a receding hairline. You got a problem with that?

Pity this is Book #7. The rest are all still stuck.

Well, too bad. I’m writing, and that’s all that counts. I’ll worry about the others when this one is done. If I have to write the entire series out of order, that’s the way it’s gonna be. Because that’s how I’ve decided to handle this: I’m going to write the entire series at the same time, and not even think about marketing Book #1 until I’ve got at least six of the others finished in draft form. It’s the only way I’ll be able to guarantee I can release a book a month. Disney/Marvel can afford to let a year or two pass between movies. That doesn’t work for ebook publishing. When you’re doing a series, the faster chapters come out, the better. Nobody wants to wait for anything anymore.

Don’t worry. I already know how the story ends. That won’t be a problem. The problem is my bad case of sequelitis. A throwaway character from Book #3 took on a life of her own; she’s got a trilogy lined up as soon as I finish the series. Then the main characters from Book #3 come back for a reprise. Or two. I didn’t realize until recently his mother was a literal witch. And so it goes…