I made some (hopefully final) changes to Stock Cars this weekend. Luckily, Carrie was able to find another consultant, so I got the manuscript back with comments about 12 hours after turning in Tarot Within Sight with Nance. Now, my frenzied writing quest appears to be over (or at least on hiatus until I get comments back on one or both of these babies). I feel strangely empty, and I wonder to myself, "Is this what 'empty nest' syndrome feels like?"
I've started working again on Thieves, which as of this year has spanned 10 years of my life. There are 367 pages of it written over a decade. A little over a hundred pages I already yanked and placed in a great big block at the end (because I didn't like it, it was immaturely written, it didn't go with the current direction I was taking the story, etc). I would say it is just over half finished. It's not Wheel of Time complicated, but it's close. When I finish it (and, much to my dismay, there seems to be a sequel in me), I'm going to move onto a different fantasy compilation that has spanned fifteen years of my life as of this year (though this one does not have much down on paper, a blessing and a curse. At twelve, I realized I did not yet have the skill or the maturity to attack the complex storyline that popped into my head).
I think I may just shelve Once Bitten. The vampire market is glutted and phasing out in favor of, of all things, ANGELS. I have absolutey no interest in a paranormal market that has taken an interest in ANGELS. Which also means it's time for me to hop to a new genre for my reading material. *sigh*