I am a crazy writer. I admit it freely. Even though I try to write every day, I got thrown off my stride by the silliness of trying to write a romance novel, which was a kiss of death for me. I fell behind on my self-imposed deadlines and have yet to catch up. Christmas Trifle was the culprit. Once I turned it into a romantic suspense novel it came out all right, but it took me 18-months to do it. I used to pride myself on turning out a new book every year or so. I’m still trying to catch up.

It’s been 2 years since my last Alvarez book, and my fans, the ones who are still with me, are chomping at the bit for me to finish the new book in the Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries. Okay, maybe not quite chomping at the bit. But one or two have inquired about it. This series is my bread and butter.

So I am breaking my neck to get Casting Call for a Corpse finished. Frankly, writing a novel is hard. I keep expecting each one to get a little easier. After all, this is my 14th some such endeavor. But they are never easy. Let’s face it, eating is easy. Writing is hard.

Furthermore, I promised myself a deadline of June 1st to get it to the editor. I am writing frantically trying to live up to that. Every waking moment I can, I devote myself to this stupid book. I have neglected my friends, my cat, my hubby. Hubby has even taken up the slack in the housework department (the one bright spot in all of this). And still, I don’t know if I am going to meet this self-imposed deadline. I could just let it go. I could just make it a July deadline. I could also go on a diet. That’s not going to happen, either.

I am a crazy writer.