Two weeks ago, I typed THE END on a novel.
Actually, that's not true. I forgot to type THE END and must rectify that. Be right back.
Strike that. Reverse.
Today, I typed THE END on a novel. Now comes the scary part.
No, I don't mean querying agents, although that would make anyone start sucking their thumb again. I mean the really scary part. The part accompanied by Bach's Toccata and Fugue in d minor.
Starting a new book.
(If this were a podcast, I'd cue all sorts of theme songs: Psycho, The Blob, Legally Blonde.)
I have a general idea for my next book. I have a protagonist. I have a side story (sort of) I'd like to work in. But who knows if any of it will work? Who knows if the characters will cooperate? If the plot will develop? If I'll make it to THE END? Not to mention I'll be trying something new (for me) in this book. (What's writing if not taking risks?)
It's a good thing I kept my childhood bear (Big Foot--my mom restuffed him for me last year).
Also, I'll have to remove the character collages from Vagabond Shoes. Who likes moving away from their friends (unless you don't like your friends)?
I LOVE how you describe the anxiety of starting a new project here...right on! And you go, girl!
Ditto.
Do I know this new idea?? I think you might need to email me. Stat.
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