By Barbara Phinney
Now, I know you mums out there are insistent that we mothers are natural multitaskers, but I have a sneaking feeling that I don't do that well.
Oh, sure, I've folded laundry, praised good potty results, danced to whatever kids' show was on TV, and made the bed all at once, but this kind of multi-tasking is different.
I'm writing two books at once.
I've submitted a proposal to Harlequin Romance. The story flowed from my fingers after Christmas, and it was so different that Love Inspired Suspense, that I knew I couldn't send it there, so I opted for Harlequin Romance. I love the simple, worldly stories, set anywhere, so , why not?
Then I wrote and submitted another Love Inspired Suspense. Now, I don't usually discuss my submissions. I don't want to say it's superstitious, because it's more a case of not counting my chickens before they hatch. If I'm blessed enough to sell another book, that's wonderful.
But I get off topic here.
With two submissions out, I've decided to start two more stories. Yup, one to Love Inspired Suspense, one to Harlequin Romance.
And I'm writing them at the same time.
A page on this story, a few lines on that one.
A chapter here, a few pages there.
A word here, a line there.
Now, I bet you can see where I'm going.
The Love Inspired Suspense is set in Canada near the Tantramar Marshes. In a nice little town with a nice little church and a nice little murder.
The Harlequin Romance is set on a Greek Island, in the home of a wealthy hero, with sun and sugar cube house, warm Med. winds, and emotion aplenty. No murder, no mayhem, no cold marsh winds.
It'll be fun, and as a non-multi-tasker, I'll be pressed hard to see if I blend the stories together by accident.
Picture this: My Greek hero whose only goal is to keep all he's known safe from the heroine, faces a police officer heroine who suddenly says, "Okay, Sean, tell me what you know about the murder."
My feisty heroine on her first trip back to the home of her birth, as she's looking out at the Aegean Sea, turns and finds Sean, a young single pastor, folding his arms and saying, "My mother didn't murder that man, and I want you to tell me exactly what evidence you have that says she did."
Now this kind of multi-tasking may be good practice for me, but I'm sure it'll be the mental death of me, and that'll be sure to have my heros and heroines on both sides of the Atlantic scrambling to figure out who these strangers are in their lives.
Ooh, what fun!