I just completed another manuscript. About 42,000 words worth of middle-reader goodness. It's a creepy story based on a little-read Robert Louis Stevenson short story, The Bottle Imp.
I just sent it off to the esteemed Abigail Samoun, my agent at Red Fox Literary. I have high hopes for this one, half because I think it is good, and half because I am clearly delusional.
I am. I'm delusional. I've been beat down by this industry time and time again, but I still believe.
And my next effort is already half-written and fully outlined, so it's time to sign off and get on with that.