I had two buns in the oven – no, no, NOT another human baby. Book babies.
I have a novel for adults that I’ve just edited and a novel for teenagers (which I suspect will cross over to the grown up side, too).
Finishing a book is always an odd sensation – relief, happiness, and a bit of empty nest syndrome. Bye bye to Noelle, the main character in A GOOD MAN, and fare-thee-well to Livvy, Codman, and Bertucci in THE LAST NIGHT. I loved writing these novels.
But now I move on and figure out the next book, which is coming to me in fragments. The book is always a puzzle I have to figure out before it becomes the next official thing. Sometimes I try a new book and fail. Or that failure becomes part of another novel years later. Sort of like recipes.
These scones were first candied ginger and too crumbly. And then ultra-buttery for a baby shower I threw for a friend. And now a blend of recipes to make a new one the kids enjoyed all last week (as did my friend for whom I’d thrown the shower).
BF Skinner wrote “A failure is not always a mistake, it may simply be the best one can do under the circumstances. The real mistake is to stop trying.”
This is probably true. And wise. And yet the guy raised a kid in a box, so perhaps we should forget about it an go eat scones.