You know what I'm talking about. You finish your current book, and now you're all excited to start a new one. You have it all planned out, the characters, where they live, the plot. Can you feel the adrenaline rush as you prepare to enter yet another new world that you have created?
Yes, it's sad to say good-bye to the old one, but there's this new one, with a whole new set of characters and trials and tribulations, and if you're an erotica writer, the new sex positions.
There's nothing more fantastic than figuring out who's going to be your next star side character, if you're going to have someone die or not, how your hero and heroine are going to handle those hurt feelings you know they're going to have and the many decisions we have to make to make it impossible to put down. Oh the joy!
My problem, I love to write. Love, love love it. Example, I'm just now getting around to revising Falcon's Angel, a vampyre/mutant novel. Okay, I finished it clear back in 2007. That's right, three years ago. I just wanted to get to the new one, and it wasn't even in that series, lol. And, to give moreperspective, I've since written about a dozen novels since then, lol. Oy! I'm hopeless, lol
Am I alone here? Does anybody else feel this way? Lemme know!