It would appear, one week away from my novel’s official launch date of February 7, 2012, that one wild ride is ending and another just beginning.
I wish I could recount the bi-gillion things I’ve learned, tried to, and been bombarded with since the ride-that-is-coming-to-an-end began, but it would be impossible for anyone. First and foremost, I learned to write, maybe more importantly, tell stories that build with tension, maybe more importantly than that, develop characters that seem to resonate (from early reviews of The Sausage Maker’s Daughters) with a broad range of people of either sex. That last is thrilling to me as it’s what makes me read voraciously.
I find myself trying to micro-manage this ending which is not at all my nature, and all it’s doing is making me crazy and anxious. But I cannot seem to fully trust that my book is on its path out into the world just as it should be. I’m fussing all the way. Why? Because I’ve invested so much time, even more than money, that it’s hard to let go at the final stage. I’m sure the second novel will be much easier. Let’s hope anyway.
And that subject, with some months in between of stumping around the country for my first released novel, brings me to the second wild ride just starting — published author and promoter-in-chief of the book — before I get back to my first love: writing, even editing, of my next novel.