I don’t like the phrase “It’s not over ’til the fat lady sings”

However, the woman wearing the helmet with the horns on it (and who could probably kick your ass) is tuning up.

Last night I submitted the final edits for Detours to my editor. I’d been up the night before until two-thirty working on them, did some more at lunch, and then hit send at 8:23 last night.

Then I had a very largish glass of wine.

And now I have to finish packing because we’re leaving for London in the morning. Over a week of queuing up, Mind the Gap, and “another pint, please.” Our schedule is somewhat loose, but there’ll be time to go to Kew Gardens, ride up the London Eye, and see the billion-dollar Picasso at the Tate Modern.

The last time I was in London was January 1992. I’d just graduated  from college, I didn’t have a job except for a temping gig back in Columbia, Mo., and I had no idea where I’d go next. I was spending my last real vacation for a while in London, with my parents, who lived there for a while before heading to Brussels. I loved London. Even though I never spent more than four months at a time there, it felt like home.

We’ll see if it still does.

When I got the edits for my novel back from my editor, it was the first time I’d looked at the book since last September. It was funny (not in the ha ha way, mind you) how quickly I fell back into the story. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. I spent the better part of eight years thinking about these characters. They still matter to me.

I hope whoever reads the book comes to care about them for long enough that the time it takes to read it will be worth it to them.

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