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.