I have 15 days to go. Fifteen days until my deadline for my next book, Henry’s Sisters. This means that – except for a short jaunt to drop a kid off at school on the east coast – I will spend most of my other days muttering to myself, half-crazed, almost sleepless, and teetering on desperate. I will talk to my characters out loud. They will talk back. They will throw things in my mind and screech and use poor language and make me laugh. I will laugh out loud at inappropriate times at my characters. I will try to avoid this inappropriate laughter during church. It is most likely I will be in pajamas until 4:00. I won’t wash my hair much and I’ll probably smell stale. I will eat too much and gain weight, that is a given. I will be edgy and mentally hyperventilating. This is typical for deadline time and I am almost used to this rollicking insanity. When the book is turned in I will go and drink. No, not bottles of rum, you silly. We’re talkin’ decaffeinated mochas with piled up whip cream. I love to write and I love to read. If my…