writing-mom

If it’s not one thing, it’s two things. Or six. These days, it’s usually six.

I’m working on Pen to Paper, and writing Heir to the Firstborn, and doing the usual Mom things. And it seems like I don’t stop working from the time I get up to the time I fall over. Which… I suppose counts as a usual Mom thing? I mean, I just recently saw something that said that the sob of “stay-at-home Mom” is the equivalent of two and a half full time jobs outside the house. Add in RWA Director-at-large, and Pen to Paper Program Manager, and I think I’m up to six full time jobs. So, yeah… if it’s not one thing, it’s six.

Still haven’t hit the halfway mark, but I’m closer. Two more chapters to the pivot, I think. Maybe one and a half. Then the fun really starts, and a scene that I’ve been both wanting to write and dreading will be that much closer.

No, of course I’m not telling you what it is!

The Lady and the Sword drops two weeks from tomorrow. Now, allow me to say, for the record, that I am unlikely to EVER do a rapid release like this again! For one thing, it requires be to have multiple books ready to go all at once, which is probably not going to happen. But for now, you get the entire series in one calendar year.

And if you want to preorder the entire series, you can do that, too!

Now, one of my six jobs is head cook, and it’s coming on to dinner time, so I need to leave you with this.

***

The corridor they wanted was right off the main entryway, which was almost empty when they reached it. That in and of itself was odd — there were always people passing through the entryway, passing in front of the ornate double doors that led into the Hall. But now, there was no one, and they passed through and on into the corridor that led to smaller meeting rooms. Again, there was no one there, except for a single person standing before the door at the end of the corridor. Owyn knew it was Memfis, even though he couldn’t see his adoptive father’s face. No one else in the Palace would have the right arm of their shirt pinned up to their shoulder so it wouldn’t hang loose. Memfis was dressed head to toe in gray, and wore a gray veil that obscured his face.

“What is he wearing?” Aven whispered.

“He is the Smoke,” Owyn whispered back. “It’s part of it.” He turned to face them. “This is where I leave you. I’ll see you on the other side.” He forced a smile. “I’ll be all right. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You realize that saying that only makes me worry more?” Alanar asked. He reached out and pulled Owyn close. “I wish I knew what you were going to be doing. I wish you could tell us.” Owyn felt him shiver. “I wish I understood.”

“I’m sorry, Allie,” Owyn whispered. He hugged his husband tightly, then stretched up to kiss him. “Does it help if I tell you that the last time I did this, it took under an hour?”

“No,” Alanar answered. “Because the time you danced in the caves in Terraces, it took about three-quarters of an hour. This last time, it took you six hours to wake up.”

Owyn grimaced. “Sorry. I thought it might help. I just… I just keep making it worse.” He closed his eyes and hugged Alanar more tightly. “I… I don’t have to. I can… I can not do it.”

“No,” Alanar said. “No, you have to. We need to know how to control the heart visions before they kill you.” He shivered again. “I… I’m not helping at all. Maybe I should have let them get me drunk. Or knock me out. Or… or something.” He laughed, sounding strained. “I love you. I’m scared—”

“I know,” Owyn said. “I know. I love you, too. And I told you my new waking vision. You’re stuck with me for a long time yet.” He tugged out of Alanar’s arms, looking around. “Aven, would you—” He paused, looked up at Alanar. “I don’t need four healers here. Jehan can stay. You and Treesi, you take Alanar back to the suite. You take care of him.”

Alanar looked shocked. “You… I… what?”

Aven came forward and rested his hand on Alanar’s shoulder. “Only if he agrees, Mouse.”

Owyn smiled and nodded. He reached up and tugged Alanar down so he could whisper in his ear. “Let them take you back to the suite. Let them take care of you. And let them help you.”

“Take care of me?” Alanar asked.

Owyn reached up and laced his fingers into Alanar’s short hair, tugging gently. It was enough to make Alanar shudder, and Owyn smiled. “Yes, take care of you.”

Alanar snorted. “I thought you wanted to be there to watch when that happened,” he whispered back.

“I’m patient,” Owyn laughed. “Really patient. We won’t have a chance to do that again until we’re back. So go do it now, and you can tell me about it later. Bedtime stories.”