I'm writing the first sequel to Whisper Falls. Its working title is A Whisper in Time, which I think the publisher will keep but you never know.
Contractually, I was given about nine months to write the first sequel. That sounded moderately terrifying although, of course, I did agree to the terms.
I am now a few short weeks away from the due date for the first draft. I had my writing schedule perfectly poised to meet that date, with two weeks allotted for a well-deserved break while my freelancer reviewed my new masterpiece. [This is a warning about the fragility of my ego, Miss Free Lancer.]
'The best-laid plans of mice and men...'
Last Saturday night, just about bedtime, I smiled with satisfaction as I saved off my manuscript. It was on track. I was happy. All was right with the world. I would check my email one more time before sleeping.
There was a brand new email in my inbox: Edits for Whisper Falls.
My husband saw the message and said, "Somebody is not going to sleep now."
He was so right. I was up until the wee hours of the morning reading through those edits. A week later, I'm still making my way through them. And that beautifully-arranged schedule for Sequel 1—totally mangled.
Here's hoping I catch up this weekend!