Things at Harkess Hall have suddenly gone quiet. No more frantic scrabbling noises coming from the upstairs office. No more swearing, and heartfelt pleas to the Gods of Editing. Silence descends, eerie and pregnant, broken only by the soft whisper of pages of loose A4 being turned.
The Edit has finished
'Amunet' is released to the beta readers. I sit in my deep leather chair, trying not to bite my fingernails so deeply that I wont be able to work when the reviews come back. A tense time.
The Writer & Artists Yearbook sits before me, unopened, taunting me. Should I tempt fate by starting to list all those prospective agents and publishers to whom my latest work should be submitted. winnowing through the lists to pluck out those most likely to be interested in something YA; Steampunky with hints of Urban Fantasy? I push it resolutely away; after the edits, after Christmas.
Patience.
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