I finished the first draft of Feathered #2 (yet to be named) late last week. I had planned on getting the second draft done over the next two weeks before I send it to my beta readers (okay beta ‘reader’ since I only have one ;)) and then make any changes and push to final editing.
But this week went haywire!
Firstly I’ve been having total computer nightmares with my hunk a junk not switching on properly (probably due to it being over five years old – which is ancient in computer years), and that everyone in the family uses the same computer and does goodness knows what to the files (they can’t touch my files thankfully).
Yesterday I couldn’t get on the computer at all – it just wouldn’t switch on, which led to an extreme Tasmanian devil style meltdown as I called and texted my husband with all manner of cuss words.
Secondly, the inlaws are down to install a new carport. For FIVE DAYS. I cannot get any writing done when father-in-law potters around our house mumbling something about screws and pivots when I’m trying to edit a sex scene. Trust me – creepy. And mother-in-law, bless her, likes to chat – a lot. *rolls eyes*
So I’ve hung in the towel and decided there is no way I’m getting anything done for the rest of the week.
I still think I’ll be ready before the end of next month. Fingers crossed.
On a good note, I’ve been doing some online creative workshops to improve my writing skills. They’ve been excellent and are really helping me fast track my writing chops. Who knows, I might even be ‘good’ at this writing thing soon 😉
Anyway, just wanted to give you a heads up on where things are at, for the two people that read this blog 😉
All the best,
Tabs xx
P.S. 149 words from Chapter 4:
“Watch where you are going,” said a woman’s voice. “You nearly hit me.”
A strong warm hand reached out for her, pulling her back to her feet.
She looked between the two people that stood before her. Bradley Simpson, looking taller than she remembered him, with newly cut hair, and by his side was Betsy Young, no, Simpson. Her hair was pulled back, with blond curls framing her face.
Ruby’s gaze lowered to where Betsy laid her hand, over her protruding round belly.
“Ruby?” asked Brad. “Well, if it isn’t. How are you?”
She looked between them, or rather, between both their faces and Betsy’s stomach.
Opening her mouth to speak, her tongue seemed to tangle in her mouth, blocking any words from forming. It was only a split second, but it felt like hours were passing as they stood in front of her, expecting her to say something.
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