*a rousing round of applause
erupts*
I have nudged Ravenous Romance about progress on them getting Writhe
out to the hungry (please, tell me you’re still hungry *lol*) masses. I even got a prompt response.
Apparently they are experiencing a backlog on covers and mine should be
complete by early next week. Publication of my 15th totally awesome,
must-read book will follow shortly thereafter.
Yeah!
I nudged (I hate nudging) and I feel a little better (I like feeling
better).
So definitely a “Yeah!” kind of an afternoon here at Chloe’s.
Meanwhile Frank, my specter of imminent failure I’ve been shoving out
my front door the last few days, has finally made it out of my house. I have
closed and locked the door behind him and checked all the windows to assure he
can’t slither his foulness back in.
When I got the word from Ravenous Romance that it would at least be
another week before release day, I did catch Frank peeking in through my
kitchen window. Now, he could have been looking for his crumpets, but I’m
pretty sure he was looking for me.
But no worries.
I’ve been stalked by failure going on an electrifying 23 years now, so I
know what I’m doing. (Only once in all that time did I have to actually
dismantle the dining room table and nail the wood planks across the door to
keep the fiend out. Admittedly, it was a bad scene and there may have been one
too many viewings of “Night of the Living Dead” going on during it. But
everybody has those zombie-banging-at-your-door moments, right? *grins*).
Despite that one little slip-up, once I get the creep out of the house,
I can generally keep him there… until, that is, his bigger and badder and
deader cousin shows up the next release-day go around.
*sighs*
But as long as failure keeps showing up as ghastly ghouls I’m A-OK.
Relatively speaking, that is.
If the sons of bitches ever show up as Hitchcockian birds, well, then we’ve got a problem.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
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