My Dirty Little Secret

antique clockI’ve started writing another book.  And it’s about Matthew and Epp.  But more on that in a few paragraphs.

Right now I want to dissect this strange process during which I sit down and lie my ass off for a few thousand words a day.  It’s a weird feeling.  The beginning of a book is a very distinct phase.  Towards the middle you have some grounding, things are taking on forms and lives of their own, and towards the end you feel release coming, but at the outset it’s just a gigantic mass of blurry images and half baked ideas inside your head that you know you’re going to spend the next year or so extracting and sculpting into a readable format.  And, at the beginning, that is nothing short of terrifying if you ever allow yourself to stop and think about it.  So much work to be done and so many things to figure out and what happens if you wake up tomorrow and sit down to write and you don’t know what happens next?  Which is why it’s really really best not to think about it.

There’s also an odd feeling of…I don’t know…lack of respect, I guess.  Books have heft, they have length and dimension.  You pick a book up in your hands and you think, “Now this is something.”  At the beginning, most people don’t realize, a book is no different from any other Word document with, like, six paragraphs in it.  The natural reaction is to think, “Bah, this piddly little thing couldn’t possibly grow to be a book.  I must be doing something wrong.”  But you’re not.  And you keep writing. And the next day it’s twelve paragraphs, then the next it’s twenty, then the next it’s one hundred, then a thousand and so on until you reach the aforementioned “middle part” where you feel you have your feet under you and some weight behind your new writing project.  Up until that middle part, though, you feel like you’re just playing the part of “Author” in some off-off-off-off-off-Broadway play that takes place entirely in your apartment and has the worst props ever to be used in theater.

The book, as I mentioned, is about Matthew and Epp.  And that’s really all I can say at this point.  Oh, I could tease you with what I think is going to happen and coyly mention possible plot lines and ideas that, currently, I feel the book is going to develop.  But that could all change tomorrow so until I’m at that middle part where there’s some definite form I’m going to stay quiet and let my new little book find its own path.

But it’s about Matthew and Epp.  That much I do know.  And it’s a sequel.  Matthew and Epp II: The Search For Blackbeard’s Gold is my working title.

That’s a joke.

Okay, so I can’t resist a little teasing.  May the writing gods not strike me down for this.  Of course nobody is going to be able to actually figure this out but the working title is Persistent Illusions. So if you know where I plucked that phrase from and combine that with the thumbnail for this post, and if you’re living inside my head or possess very strong psychic powers, then you might be able to figure out a  little bit of the back story for one of the new characters in this book.

But nobody is actually going to figure that out so never mind.