I finished the first draft of my new novel late last week and turned it in. This will be my second book with Dutton, but I’m going to keep myself quiet about what it’s called and what it’s about until I’m deeper into the process. We haven’t even started revising yet, so who knows… This book could become something entirely new by the end of this. It could reveal a whole new face to me. It could flip itself upside down and inside out and need to be entirely rewritten. It could illuminate itself in ways I haven’t seen yet, so once I have the feedback and start working with my editor, I’ll have a better idea of what’s to come. All I do know is this book needs a lot of work—a lot. I love revising, so I honestly can’t wait, but knowing there will be a lot of work ahead really is daunting. I’d be lying if I pretended otherwise.
This was a difficult first draft to get out, for many reasons.
Here was my status update on Facebook:
So now I’m looking into the future—my future—and I’m seeing a blank.
Will I be lucky enough to get the opportunity to publish another book after this one?
Should I go back to full-time work in publishing? (Though I’m realizing I can’t, until after I return home from my next writing residency this spring, so that decision will be prolonged for some more months.)
What should I write next?
Should?? Oh, I never listen to shoulds. What will I write next?
This weekend, after finishing the first draft, I had full intention of revising my two pitches-in-progress so I can show my agent and see what he thinks… and then I did something else. I slept. I mean I slept. I slept late, got up only to sleep again, got up to eat and then went back to sleep and slept and slept. I think my brain wanted a bit of a break, huh?