So, at around 230 am last night, I finished the draft sequel to DEATH MATCH.
I’ve got revisions to do, but the beast is largely the way I like it and so the next Spar Battersea adventure will be coming to your town in a couple of months. It was fun to write, and you can rest assured that Spar become a tar baby for trouble in the next subculture I wanted to write about. Which one? Take a guess, True Believers. Take a guess. ‘Nuff said.
It also marks the third novel I wrote this year. And I’m planning to finish another one before Christmas. Now, the Spar books are shorter, but even still, it’s a lot of wordage and 2011 will end as my most productive novel writing year yet. I’m no Walter Gibson or Michael Moorcock, but I’ve upped my game by a factor of two. I’m working harder and I hope smarter and hope things start turning my way real soon.
I’ve got some other big plans and good news, too, but they still remain top secret. I’ve also been hit with some disappointments that are also confidential. But it’s funny that in the wake of the good and the bad, my solution to most of this stuff, after I’ve celebrated my victories or stewed like a rotten egg after defeat, is the same:
Write the next thing you want to write. Read the next thing you want to read. Try and keep your momentum fueled with more joy than anger and get on with it. Which reminded me of this quote
“Yell. Jump. Play. Out-run those Sons-of-Bitches. They’ll NEVER live the way you live. Go do it.” Ray Brabury
Oh. Hell. Yeah.