The cry-write-cry book now has a title. Or at least a working one. I'm going with Bright Stars, Broken Compass. I think. I've never written a book with so much of me in it. Friends and family may recognize themselves- one of the hazards of knowing a writer. And places and events will definitely resemble real life. I've got a good start, and for right now, I'd like to post a teaser and maybe even a blurb sometime over the holidays. Hopefully I'll be able to project a release date by the first of the year.
I'm loving on this book. I think about it when I fall asleep, and lots of other times when I probably shouldn't, like when I'm driving. I want to buy it presents, like unspoiled notebooks for scribbling, and different colored Sharpies for color-coding of various kinds. I even see poster board in my future. For maps and sketches and such. And online widgets like a word count meter. And the playlists! I really must get on Spotify so I can share these with readers, because I am cluttering up the sidebar in iTunes with my BCBS playlists.
I feel itchy when I don't get to work on it. Like now. I'm even kind of dreading the holidays, because most of the household will be underfoot, and that will throw off my flow. I've been commanded to eat Thanksgiving at a family friend's, which is weirdness for me, because I am used to being the Turkey Queen of my little corner of the universe. But it will be nice not to cook, I suppose. We're going to do a delayed Thanksgiving dinner for the Iron Bowl. Don't know about the Iron Bowl? Well, for many Southerners, it is Sports Christmas, New Year, and win-the-lottery-day combined. And all I want for Christmas is an Auburn win.
The Angel's Edge books continue to sell well. I feel like I should have taken a lot more screen shots and done a lot more crowing- for several days I was on a bestseller's list with Neil Gaiman. !!!. But I feel a lot more mellow about it this time around. The first time I had a bestseller on my hands, I hit the refresh button on my stats several times an hour and generally freaked the hell out. Now, not so much. Sales and rankings are starting to feel less like the end goal and a lot more like just part of the process. This is good. Once, I thought that "must sell, must make money, or else I will starve and never be a real writer" feeling would never stop driving me. But it is ebbing. Three years (????) or so, four novels, two novellas, and a couple of anthologies later, and I'm finally gaining some perspective.
Who would have thought?
Hope everyone's Thanksgiving prep is going well. And if you have to venture into Walmart these next few days (I was there yesterday), carry a big stick. My prayers are with you!