Alone

I spent last night almost all alone. No kids. No husband. Just me and the complete first season of Sex in the City. I turned off the computer, so I wouldn't be tempted, and made myself a giant cosmopolitin. Was wonderful. Then a read a couple of chapters of Patricia Grasso's Pleasuring the Prince. I didn't like it when I started it, but it has just enough oddities to draw me in and make me forget about the head hopping.

But I was alone. And it was good.

I should have cleaned the walls in the bathroom. Or deadheaded the roses. Or plotted out HOT. But I didn't. I relaxed. Fancy that.

Today, I am going to work in the yard before it gets hot and then work on HOT. I promise. I have another good idea for it and think I will start out with a synopsis this time. I like to shake things up every time I write a new book. Try something different. So this time I'm making a character list and doing the entire synopsis before I do chapter one. I am going to try for 65,000-70,000 words. I think I'm targeting the American Romance line with it, so it has to be longer than I originally thought. Never wrote a book that long before.

Wish me luck.