Sixteen months ago I published Just Like Glass, my first book. It had taken me a long, long time to finally finish it, and once it was out there in the world, I was excited to share it. I celebrated with about 120 family members and friends at the official launch party, and then I took the show on the road, with more than two dozen readings and talks at libraries, book groups, and other venues.
It was a blast, and I plan to do more of it this spring, summer, and fall. In fact, just a couple of weeks ago, I visited a book group on Monday and the local senior citizen club on Wednesday, my first two book events since November, and I’m still hearing from new readers who have just discovered Just Like Glass.
For the first year or so after it was published, it was fairly rare for anyone to ask me about my future writing projects. I think most people realized that, after spending a bit more than sixteen years, off and on (mostly off, I admit) writing my first book, I needed a bit of time to, well, just bask.
[Incidentally, if you Google the word bask, the first definition is, not surprisingly, “lie exposed to warmth and light, typically from the sun, for relaxation and pleasure” and the example given of that usage is “sprawled figures basking in the afternoon sun.” The second definition is “revel in and make the most of (something pleasing)” and the example given for that sense of the word is “he went on basking in the glory of his first book.” I am not making that up. Clearly, when you publish your first book, basking is expected.]
But recently, there’s been a change. Since sometime last fall, at each of my events, during the question-and-answer period, someone has raised a hand and asked, “Are you working on another book?” or “Tell us what you’re working on now,” or “When will your next book be out?”
It’s a compliment; I know that. Often the question comes with an ego-stroking comment like “because I can’t wait to read it” or “I want to make sure my library gets it.”
I love these eager readers of my work, and I want to give them an answer—and a new book--that will keep them from forgetting about me. I don’t want to be a one-hit wonder, after all.
And the truth is, I am working on another book…sort of. It’s a novel—working title: Banned Books—that I started writing about two years after I first began my research for Just Like Glass. I actually wrote 50,000 words in thirty days—my own personal National Novel Writing Month, although I did mine in February (plus the last two days of January) instead of November.
That was February of…2010. Sixteen years ago. According to the timeline I established in writing Just Like Glass, I guess that means it’s about time for that book to be done.
It’s not.
For a while, I went back and forth between the two projects, working on whichever one grabbed my attention. Even though I sometimes went years without opening the document on my computer, each time I did, I would think, hey, this has potential! Over time, I added another 22,000 words to Banned Books, and I can sort of see the end in sight.
Eventually, though, I started to feel strongly that Just Like Glass was the book I needed to finish before I could concentrate on writing anything else, and about two years ago I got serious about it and got it done.
Then I basked. And basked some more. And “went on basking in the glory of my first book.”
Even before people started asking about my next project, I had made up my mind that a year was a good length of time to spend basking, and that when November of 2025 rolled around, and Just Like Glass turned one year old, I would buckle down and rededicate myself to the novel.
You know how people are always saying they were going to do such-and-such, but then “life got in the way”? Well, life got in the way.
I had my second knee replacement surgery in October, and, two weeks later, my husband had a biopsy. In the five months since, he has had 35 medical appointments, and I’ve gone with him to all but two or three of them.
I have acquired an almost encyclopedic knowledge of medical abbreviations, from MRIs, PETs, and CT scans to ADT/ARPI therapy. I can pronounce things like Abiraterone, Darolutamide, and Lisinopril, and tell you what they do.
My role as Captain of the Cancer Ship is probably my most valid excuse for not making any progress whatsoever with the novel, but there are others:
I have a ridiculous compulsion to exercise every single damn day, cook and bake from scratch, and make at least some effort to keep up with current events. I have dozens of unanswered emails, three knitting projects in progress, and a long list of unfinished projects around the house. I spend way too much time playing with my phone. My part-time job takes up full-time space in my head. We’re getting a puppy.
For the past several months, I have started each day’s Wordle with the word “TIRED.”
So no, I’m sorry to say, I haven’t been working on my novel lately. But ask me again, maybe in another sixteen years.