No, not really.

But as I said last week, this must be what it feels like to be Kate Hardy. Or Nora Roberts.

I suppose I should have left out the period between those last two sentences (or sentence and fragment), putting in a comma instead so Kate could be in the same sentence with Nora, which she likes.

But then she’s in the last sentence with Nora, so I hope she’s happy now.

Anyway, I’m writing buckets every day. I no longer stop and mull. I don’t ruminate. I don’t weigh. Words spill out. They may not be good words yet, or the right words, or the words I’ll eventually end up with.

But they are words.

And they are getting through this story.

So, hooray for them. And hooray for these people, PJ and Ally, whose story must really want to be told.

All I can say is, Seb and Neely better be paying attention so they can see how it ought to be done. None of this shilly-shallying around. No whining. No taking their football and going home. Or their blueprints or whatever they were messing with when last I saw them.

Enough about them. They had their chance. They blew it. Or they and the editor didn’t play well with each other, and so they aren’t getting their chance right now. Maybe later. Well, definitely later. Probably. Er, um . . .

I don’t care. Sufficient to the day is the book I’m working on. I’m just going to enjoy PJ and Ally — and these blissful days when writing is, as they say (though I really rarely believe), “easy and fun for me.”

At least it’s easy and fun for PJ and Ally. And those few other authors who make it seem effortless. Which at the moment is me.

Who’d a thunk it?

I just wish I didn’t have 5 days left to finish it all up. I could bask in knowing what I’m doing a bit longer if I had more time.