I spent the weekend looking over my next 12 months, and I made a big gulp. Sigh. And I thought I was going to be able to slow my schedule down. Alas . . . a personal writing project that I want to do for myself is in danger of sliding to next year–again. And when I say again, I mean an entire 16 months from now. Blah. Making my contractual deadlines is not going to be an issue, but I’m in danger of losing the three months that I’ve been carving out for myself for the last year or so. Three months. All I needed was three months. I’ve got two and a half now, so I’m not giving up hope. The world book might not take all the time I estimated, so there is hope . . .