So I get my revision notes from my editor for NIGHT ECHOES, along with the timeframe for getting it back to her. Oct. 1 is the date she writes, and I think, Great! Excellent. Enough time to do the final revision of HAWKSPAR, then do the final revision of NIGHT ECHOES, and still breathe.
I tell my editor she’ll have the ms. by Oct. 1.
She writes back. No, Oct. 1 is her last deadline. My last deadline is going to be sooner than that. Probably significantly sooner than that.
Long, painful silence ensues as I digest this news.
HAWKSPAR comes next. My editor for that book has been more than understanding, I have stretched the project out because of the “I’ll need NIGHT ECHOES next month, not the same month next year” deadline, and now, having half-killed myself to get it done in that time, I may not make the cutoff anyway. Because I’m not starting NIGHT ECHOES until I finish HAWKSPAR.
You should be able to hear the dull thudding of my head against my desk, no matter where you are. You’ll see me again. Not necessarily soon, though.