I need to apologize to anyone who sent me a manuscript to read this year in hopes of getting a blurb and to let you know now that I just don't have time to get to it. I have been buried in my own writing all year and am just barely getting to the point where I can see some glimmer of daylight. Why? Because my writing has been paying the bills. Often, it has been the only thing paying the bills. Were it not for my novels and novellas and training clients at the gym, the lights would have gone out many times. So, that's why I haven't gotten to your manuscript. I'm sorry and I wish I could say it was going to get better, but I'm booked solid through the first quarter of next year when I will finally have time to finish Prey Drive, the sequel to Succulent Prey.
I have been writing my big, sexy, ebon ass off this year. So far this year, I have completed a collaborative novella, Son of A Bitch co-written with Andre Duza, a short novel titled SKINZZ, A full-length novel, Pure Hate and another short novel, Sacrifice, and am now going to work on a collaborative novel with J.F. Gonzalez titled The Killings. Two jobs have come and gone. My income was reduced to nothing and then, just today, good news, I just got back the job I had when I lived in Vegas working with the company I worked for, for ten years. It is very, very good news.
What that means for me is that I won't have to kill myself like I've been doing the past two years, trying to keep food on the table. I can start saving to buy a house again and my family might just have a decent Christmas. What that means to you is that I'll be less surly and disagreeable and maybe, just maybe, I'll actually have time to read a few manuscripts.