So I am writing a novel.
There, I said it, and saying it is scary. Almost as scary as letting you read the first three chapters. The only reason I've had time to work on such a thing as a novel is because we are in beautiful Thailand, where the kids stay busy all day leaping over whitecaps, and Daniel is stuck in meetings from sunup to tropical sundown. Poor guy:( But this novel, which has been swimming around in the waters of my heart for years, is finally pulling itself onto land. Ready or not, here I go.
So anyway, if I neglect my dear old friend But a Breath just a bit over the next few months, its because I am hiding away in a closet in my apartment, avoiding my motherly duties, writing away.