My husband sleeps next to me in bed.  He woke at 4 am this morning, as he tends to do the first morning off his third shift schedule.  I pick at my script, slowly but surely, while the first season of Sherlock plays on the bedroom telly.

I have NEW IDEA for when the short story is done (by Monday, at the latest.  I am presenting it to the writers group).  And once the script is done, I am shifting back to novel mode - even though it terrifies me to death.  After the last review of my short story came back from the Clarion editor, I realized I do suck at editing my own work.

The Clarion editor made the simplest suggestion to improve my story - and I kick myself still for not seeing it.  It was the best advice I have ever received on my work.  And yet, I'm ashamed it had to be given.  The next group of skills I need to work on is editing.  And I don't believe I will have any help from the writers group on that.  Its fearless leader gives his novels one pass before setting it off to a beta reader.  Once those corrections are made, he self-publishes through Amazon.

Call me old fashion and crazy, but I would like my second novel to be published by an actual publishing house.  I don't know why it is a dream, but it always has been.

I hear what you're saying.  "Second novel?"  I doubt I will possess the skills to properly edit my first novel for circulation.  However, I should be ready to go by the time I finish draft zero of my second novel.

Well, back to it.  Hubby snores.  It's the perfect backdrop sound for the script.