Every day, you get up, and there are myriad choices to be made.
One of my choices is: Which project do I start next?
The doorstop fantasy is on hold until the market either crashes entirely or comes back, so whether we do a sequel or not is out in the future somewhere. (If the money isn't better than what we have been offered so far, it's going to be a one-book deal, we get that far.)
The most recent novel about the spiritual warrior Kane, is cleaned up enough to show to my agent, but I'll want to see what kind of response it gets before I start on another in that universe. (And thanks again to the readers who offered input on that one.)
A potential work-for-hire project seems to have stalled -- I haven't heard back on it, and while no news is sometimes good news, in such cases, it usually isn't.
The Indy book is waiting on final approval, and if that doesn't require more rewrites from me, off the table until it comes out. If it sells like ice water in Hades, might be another one of those in the offing, but that's eight months away, minimum.
It's not as if I don't have a laundry list of possible projects. I could write about my retired old man spy and his deadly wife. I could do the final book in the Matador series. There's a tea-cozy mystery idea, The Cardigan Corgi Kill I've got percolating. Or I could always do a vampire romance novel. My most recent foray into vampire tales was a long-ago short story whose punchline was "Kevlar!" but everybody and her kid sister is writing and selling those today, it has become its own genre. Bed-hopping and boinking among the undead and were-whatevers. "Oh, Count! Your ... hand is so cold!"
I could try and turn the Kane book into a movie script or a comic book miniseries. I could do a a how-to-write book, most of which is probably buried in the blog over the last few years. I could hunt down some more tie-in work.
So many choices ...