Panic motivated me to take the day off from work last Friday. Being a romance novelist is a lot more work than I knew. I needed a three-day weekend to get my act together.

I spent most of the weekend in my recliner with two chihuahuas between my legs and a Macbook on my lap. The end table to my right is piled high with papers, unopened mail, various office supplies, and the giant stack of sympathy cards I got from coworkers and friends after Dad passed away. I’d put a coffee pot on it if there was room.

Friday morning I ran for an hour and mowed part of the yard. My partner spent the night at the Rock Eagle 4-H Center for a work retreat and wasn’t expected home until late Saturday afternoon. I stayed up until midnight for the first time in ages to work on After Christmas Eve and draft out the posts I’ve been invited to do for other blogs.

My partner’s birthday was Saturday. Since August 15th, he’s been a romance novelist widow. If we’re both home, he sits quietly on the old sofa in the dining room with his earbuds in, trying not to make any noise so I can write. He cooks for me, takes care of our dogs, and never complains about my tendency to sometimes take him for granted. I had to do something nice for him. So I invited his friends over for a surprise, make-your-own-kabob birthday party that turned out much better than I expected. He was pleased–that’s what counts. And I didn’t bitch even once about all the writing time it cost me. I’m sweet like that sometimes.

This morning I polished up two blog posts and my answers to a long list of interview questions for a “meet the author” post that probably won’t appear for weeks. You’ll see your first post from a guest author here tomorrow, and I already have another ready for next Monday. My first guest appearance on another blog is scheduled for Tuesday. Follow me on Facebook or Twitter for the link to Tuesday’s guest appearance and others that will come out over the next few weeks.

I worked out for an hour at the gym today and then shook my booty through an hour of Zumba with my partner. I’ve been too busy to eat and have lost about five pounds this weekend–even after two pieces of birthday cake and too many kabobs. One of my Zumba girlfriends told me she’d noticed how my time at the gym has paid off. I wanted to kiss her.

Freaking out about all the work hasn’t knocked me from Cloud Nine. I still can’t believe my good fortune. All the smiling has given me cheeks of steel. Seriously. You could crack an egg on my cheeks–either one.

I’ll be busy this week, too. I’ve got four submissions to critique for my writers group, a few more blog posts to do for other authors, and I’d love to spend a few hours on After Christmas Eve. Fortunately, the week ends with another three-day weekend. You’ll probably find me right here in my recliner with Toodles stretched out along my thigh and Tico’s head on my foot, writing like there’s no tomorrow here in…

My Glass House