Ding! Dong! The bitch is done!
Finally. Finally, Book 2 in the Vampires of Hollywood series ( Dante's Choice ) is finished and ready to be sent on its merry way ( with much merry fucking rejoicing indeed from me ) to Untreed Reads. I hope Jay will be as happy to receive it there as I am to see the back of the damned thing here.
Never has a project cost me so much in terms of my creativity and damned near my mind too.
The whole thing - from start to finish - was the property of that bastard Murphy to take out his law upon as he saw fit, and boy, did Murphy find some interesting ways in which to make my life seem like I had wandered into some hitherto undiscovered Circle of Hell. From catastrophic computer crashes which took the entire manuscript with it, to the head-tossing walk-out of The Muse, I even became convinced at one point that this project was cursed. Yes, actually cursed. Convinced enough anyway to find myself looking at cleansing sage bundles and bottles of High John the Conqueror and all that New Age bollocks in online stores, one hand reaching for my credit card, before common sense kicked in and reminded me that I do not believe in any of that hoodoo crap.
But I do believe in Murphy’s law.
Today, on this day and in the year of our Lord ( or Lords, or Goddesses, or whatever ) August 17th, 2013, I finally typed the last fucking syllable in 21 chapters and almost 76, 000 words.
And I fully intend not to even think about vampires for at least the next six months. It may be a year or more before Book 3 appears so make the most of this one. Jay at Untreed Reads has told me that he’s keeping a place in the publishing schedule of 2013 for me, which is exceedingly nice of him considering that the bloody thing must be about a year overdue by now!
I’m not sure what I shall work on next, writing-wise. Maybe nothing for a little while. Maybe I’ll do something completely out of the blue.
I’ll decide that after I’ve had a well-earned celebratory weekend. Think of Paul Sheldon at the beginning of Misery, dancing around his hotel room with a bottle of champagne after he had written the last word on his hated character Misery Chastain…well, without the whole car crash and Annie Wilkes and the eye-watering ankle-breaking stuff. And with Stella Artois rather than champagne because I’m one of probably only a handful of strange people in the universe who dislike champagne, even the pricey stuff.
For now let me just say it one more time to reassure myself that it's true…Ding! Dong! The bitch is done!
Paul Sheldon: These are slum kids, I was a slum kid. Everybody talks like that.
Annie Wilkes: THEY DO NOT! At the feedstore do I say, 'Oh, now Wally, give me a bag of that F-in' pig feed, and a pound of that bitchly cow corn'? At the bank do I say, 'Oh, Mrs. Malenger, here is one big bastard of a check, now give me some of your Christing money!' THERE, LOOK THERE, NOW SEE WHAT YOU MADE ME DO!