I passed the 100-page mark in the current book. Yay! But I suspect a few of those pages will have to go. Henry and Verity are spending way too much time chatting in his study, but the tricky part is that's the only place they can safely talk openly, and there's much scheming and plotting going on. I guess it's the equivalent of my first draft of Once Upon Stilettos, in which half the book seemed to be Katie and Owen walking to and from the subway station on the way to/from work. I ended up cutting and condensing those scenes or moving them to other situations.
Meanwhile, because my brain hates me, as I was falling asleep last night, it started writing an entirely different book. I now know a lot about that heroine and her life and how the book will start. This one could be a lot of fun, as it's a "sucked through a portal" story for adults -- a cynic who's lost all belief in romance and fairy tales finding herself in a fairy tale world.
But I have to write this other book first.
Right now, I have characters in six different fictional universes vying for my attention. That makes it hard to focus sometimes, and that's not even counting the characters from other people's universes who seem to think I should be telling stories about them.
This seems to be the Weekend of Arts-Related Events (and other festivals). There's a big outdoor light art (as in art made from lights) event downtown tonight that sounds cool if I can overcome the inertia enough to get myself to the train station and get downtown and then deal with crowds. There are two different ballet productions tomorrow that I would like to see, as well as at least three festivals that I'm aware of and another art event. Sometimes that much choice leads to paralysis, where the easiest choice is to stay home. Tonight's event is something that happens only every other year, and it looks like a real experience. But if I do that plus the ballet plus go to the party I have on Sunday, I know I'm going to feel overloaded.
And I actually kind of want to write.