As we don our stretchiest, most comfortable and roomy clothing, some people are thinking of hitting the stores for the best bargains, while others are catching up on some sleep. At our house, everyone has left to hit the ski slopes. Not me. I can live without the heart-pounding fear of heights on the chair lift, and the equally fear-inducing sensation of putting the safety of life and limb into the metaphorical hands of two sticks strapped to my feet.

Instead, I’m finding that the flow of excess calories through my veins has proportionately increased the flow of ideas for my writing. My current manuscript has been battered, twisted, torn apart, put back together, torn apart again, and for the past few days, has been hiding in a corner, shaking in terror. Today, I will try to calm its fears, showing it that my actions were well-meant and, in the end, will be for its own good.

Sins of the Fathers was released and launched a few weeks ago, and some very favourable reviews have come in so far. My plan is to add an excerpt to this blog some time in the next week or so. I probably should have done it sooner, but all this holiday preparation took its toll on my available time.

So now, I will get back at it. Armed with a computer and a cup of tea, I will tug the manuscript out of its hiding place and wrestle with it (as gently as possible) until I convince it that we have to move its status from a draft of somewhere in the negatives to an actual first draft.