Here's the picture I had in my mind: I had a book signing last weekend at a Renaissance Festival. This weekend is Sleuthfest. In between were four full days, Monday through Thursday, in which I had nothing to do but write. In my head I would finish editing the book I've wanted to change around a bunch AND finish up the sequel to MACBETH'S NIECE so it could lie fallow for a few months before I began the editing segment.

You've probably guessed that neither of those things happened. I'm not sure whether it was the walks on the beach, the shopping opportunities, or running around to meet librarians, but my four days are gone, and there isn't much progress on the writing front.

There is no constantly ringing phone to disturb me here. No chores to speak of. No friends calling to invite me to lunch. In theory, I should have gotten tons of work done. In practice, not so much.

Maybe it's me.

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