Jesus. My main character is a widow with a three-year-old son who can walk through worlds, whose sister is a glorified zombie, whose dead husband is still literally haunting her, whose would-be lover is secretly a Special Agent in the FBI, and who is charged with saving the worldchain from collapse . . . and I can’t squeak an extra hundred words out of this goddamned book to make my nightly quota, and I have been writing since 1:30 pm.
There are days when it truly does seem that there must be saner ways to make a living. I need a smack upside the head from a focused muse.