Somewhere in the Eastern US, some unsuspecting postal truck is carrying my proof copy of The Tyrant King to me. That it's on its way has me full of butterflies and other various, wriggly things.
Which is good, since I have succumbed to that horrible feeling that authors have when they don't write anything new for a few days/weeks/months/years. Yesterday I even caught myself thinking, "Why am I doing this?"
I know it's bad when I start going down that road. And making awesome cinnamon rolls did not help. I need to write again.
I don't know why trying to get edits done and corrections fixed on a print book freezes all my other abilities to write. Logically I can write while waiting. I mean, really. But for some reason my brain shuts off and I can't get the creativity flowing at all.
In other news, I did accept the promotion at work and I passed the drug test (I don't know why they always freak me out when I take them, even though I know I have nothing to hide). Had my first training night Monday. I will be training tomorrow and likely Friday, and will possibly have my first "on duty" day Saturday.
And I'm only freaking out a little. The last episode was the worry that no one wants me in the position and they won't listen to me as a manager. Making management happy by relieving their burden doesn't necessarily mean the regular staff wants to see me in charge.
Honestly, the likelihood is that they won't care. But you know how your brain can be mean sometimes.
The kids start school tomorrow. They are 99.5% ready. Looking forward to things settling down a bit.
And waiting for The Tyrant King to arrive. Patiently. Kinda.