I had a terrifying question asked of me the other day. Oh, it didn't start out scary. It just ended that way.
"Hey, I liked your book," read a comment in my e-mail. I did a little happy dance in my chair. "What's America doing next?"
America is America Miles, the protagonist in Death on Deadline. And right now, she's waiting on me.
And it's all my fault.
I should have listened to my husband. He told me months ago - right after I published Death on Deadline - that I needed to start working on my next book. I just shrugged. And glared.
"I will, I will," I told him. "I JUST finished. That's like asking a new mom when she's having another baby."
Geez. How rude.
Well, I hate to admit it (because wives are always right, of course) but he wasn't rude. He was right. I should have been writing.
Because now I'm late. And my fingers are flying double-time. So don't wait. And don't be offended. Just write.