First, my collaborator Chloe (my fifteen-year-old daughter) has abandoned me, citing--if I boil it down--too much work. I am the sort who will live, breath, draw, and dream the story once I dive in. There's no looking back, there's only forward and a story to tell.
I also didn't want to push Chloe, told her I'd be perfectly happy with her being a reader, doing critiques, and participating in plotting exercises. I think that's really what she wanted to do from the beginning--that's the fun part, as she sees it, going to coffee shops and SF conventions to talk stories and characters and whole new worlds.
She thinks the writing part is too much like work. I guess I can see that, but in another sense that's a problem that can be solved: you do enough of it, and it won't be. The story's already in my head. I just need to be awake and have access to a keyboard to write it, and I can even get pretty far without waking.
So, Chloe and I will definitely collaborate on a book at some point. She's an amazing reader, she has a gift for writing dialogue. It won't be long. And this is only book 8. I still have 92 stories to tell! (probably more, but I'll start out with an even hundred).
As far as progress goes, I busted through 15k words, with a planned total of 60+ thousand. This is YA, and I'm going to stay inside the typical word count range. So, I'm a quarter done, and sailing for the halfway point.
Who's got the damn tiller? And who's making coffee?