The thing I learned from the first day of reviewing my copyedits: time to move my place of work. No more comfy couch. I’m back at the desk in my study, otherwise known as the Eeyore room. The previous owners of the house used this room as a nursery. The walls are painted a light purple, and a Winnie-the-Pooh mobile used to hang on the wall. Weeks after moving in, we found Eeyore had been left behind.

The wall color makes for a soothing environment, plus I positioned my desk so I have a view of Lake Michigan. The other bonus is that I get to look at the neighbor’s very lovely yard.

I was a bit unnerved to find few mark-ups on this version of my manuscript. I always assume there is a lot more work to do. I know there is more work to do on the intro and first chapter. So I’ve suited up for the day, and off I go to work.

I’m starting off with a comfy setting.

As long as I don’t fall asleep, I should do okay. I’ve got some good books scattered around for inspiration.

And I made sure to put on grown-up clothes. But let’s face it, for this kind of work, nothing fancy is required.

Between chapters (or pages) I’ll be getting up to walk the dog and/or get something to eat.

Back to it.

I managed to avoid including an author photo with my first two books, but I can’t do it this time around. I’ve decided against a basic head shot because it seems too gruesome to have that much focus on my face. I’m at that age where I need strategic posing or a mask or some serious photo shopping. But I also don’t want anything that’s too artsy. I do want to have it reflective of the time period of the book, which is the 1940s.

Maybe a writer-at-work scenario will be just the thing.

Here are some of my favorites, starting with the cafe woman. I like the way she is looking intently at her paper, but I don’t think I can pull off the hat and fur coat.

This one might be a tad too messy, but I like the spirit:

This one is less messy, but Grace Metalious’s fashion sense is a bit too northwoods for my taste:

And here’s Martha Gellhorn, looking very smart, except for that cigarette:

Finally, there’s…well, I could NEVER wear this outfit:

So stay tuned. See what develops.

Whenever my husband and I come into a bit of money (quarter from the sidewalk, tax refund–that kind of thing), we always say, “At least this year we eat.” If you’re a Cheers fan, you’ll get the reference.

So that was my remark yesterday when I opened an envelope from my agent and found the balance of the advance for my forthcoming book, Angels of the Underground. It was for more than 25 cents and it is probably more than any tax refund we’ve ever received, but so far I’ve found this–the money earning stuff–the least exciting part of being an author. (I have a day job, so I don’t rely on writing to pay the bills.)

Research and writing are exciting, but the big, big thrill is signing the publication contract. A close second is the first look at the book’s cover art. Of course, I certainly won’t be disappointed if the book earns way beyond its advance. But the smell of a freshly signed contract–that’s the smell of victory.