My first novel has been in the making for years, has undergone countless revisions and rewrites. The second book has been knocking around in my head, demanding to be transformed from nebulous ideas into a concrete story, but I can’t let the first book go. I guess I like the story line too much.
The plot comes from the twisted recesses of my imagination, which makes it a pleasure to put into words. I like twisted. The words flow, and it’s so much fun that I forget to eat. The coffee gets cold in the mug.
But some of the scenes are the residue of my own bitter experiences, which can be tough to think about without becoming maudlin. The memories that swim to the surface can get me so wormy that progress grinds to a shuddering halt. I put my chin in my hands and stare into space.
Anyway, I don’t really want to put this book aside and move on. It keeps hounding me, badgering me. I want others to hear it. I want to know if anybody else likes the story, and if I’ve done a good job telling it.
It’s been hawked to a number of agents, but they all politely declined to even read it. I got so many form letter rejections so fast, that it makes me wonder if they even read my pitch.
So… What I’ve decided to do is self-publish the thing and see what happens. This is turning into a lot more work than I expected. Editors and proofreaders have definitely gained my respect during this process, to say nothing of the artists that design book covers.
But this is getting done, even if it hair-lips everybody in Bear Creek. It will come out as an e-book sold at Amazon soon.
Soon. Is that vague enough?