Mona Lisa's Room, a romantic suspense, is book one of The Red Hand series. The editor wants the next two books as quickly as possible, so I'm writing like a fool, upset with myself for not making much headway. I'm still in the phase of getting a handle on my characters. Just when I think I know them, they do something that makes me scratch my head. Then I have to go back to previous chapters and layer in elements to support the unexpected behavior or reaction. I'd hoped to be further along than this. In fact, I'd told my agent to expect book two, Rain is a Love Song, by the end of October. Folks, it ain't happenin'.
I have a cyst on the side of my face in front of my left ear. The cyst, the size of a large grape, according to the CT scan is attached to one of my saliva glands. Heck, no wonder I ain't worth spit, as the saying goes. The cyst is growing, causing pain in my ear and jaw, to say nothing of the constant headaches.
So, in a few weeks I'll have surgery to remove it. Because of all the facial nerves involved, it is an intricate operation. The surgeon says it'll take about four hours. Please keep your fingers crossed that he won't knick a nerve and my face will resemble Jack Nicholson's Joker in the old Bat Man movie.
The incision will start on my cheek at the base of my ear and go up the side of my face, over my ear and down the back of my ear and half way down my neck. My head will be shaved in that area, too. I shudder to think how I'll look afterward, but there's no getting away from it. I need the surgery.
Granted at my age, appearances aren't high on my list of priorities. If they were I'd spend more time in the gym and less time writing. But writing is my life right now...and I'm trying not to freak as life throws me this curve ball. My edits will get done on time. My current WIP will get done--eventually--without the pain I'm struggling with now. Things will be fine. I'll be fine. My book will be fine. Right?
