Ance in my Pance

I am temporarily freed of the self-imposed burden of A WINTER SONG. I have stopped fiddling with it and I have let it out into the pasture for real humans to read and dissect.

I’m terrified.

Well, that’s not true, I’m not terrified, but I am considerably more anxious than I thought I would be. Stupid little things like the fact that two of the people offering to beta read it are of Scandinavian origins, and I have bastardised huge amounts of Old Norse language for example. Will they be offended? Will they think I am a massive prick? Then my sensible gland (very small) says, don’t be ridiculous, all the English folk won’t get offended with the amount of bastardy I’ve performed on English… Will they? OH MY GOD THEY WILL!

Anyway, it’s gone. I have invited the criticism. I must now await its arrival and adjust my world view appropriately.

My next problem is one of choice. I can’t stop. I need to write. I have several nascent ideas, including a sequel or two to the novel that’s currently being eaten. But which do I choose?

My brain is broken you see. I can’t concentrate on one thing at a time, I never have been able to. I even deviated and wrote short stories whjile writing this novel. Hell, this novel was actually a spin-off of an epic fantasy novel I haven’t even written yet.

So, I must meditate on this. *jibber*

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