Heart sinks. Feeling behind on writer marketing and publicity tasks for the novel coming out this fall. Yes, I have good (actually unhappy so they are bad) excuses! But maybe the work I need to complete is not so terrible? After all:
- Events are scheduled.
- The book is finished.
- Sure, maybe I could get my promotional materials (bookmarks, etc.) updated.
- There’s that McKnight stuff to keep me going. A plan that will commence in a few short weeks. Still floating from the validation.
What has me a bit on edge is what happens now that the advance copies of Burnt Out are out in the world. Will they be cherished? Reviled? Ignored? I’ve had all three types of responses. The first response is wonderful for the writer’s ego and sales.
The second – well, we try hard to just forget about those. Bad opinions happen to good writers all the time. Everyone has their opinion. But when the right people have the wrong opinion about your book….well, you can figure it out. Aside from the ego bust, these are not particularly good for sales.
The third? At least it’s not the second response.
And my thoughts about writing have entered this new phase. I’m eager to jump into it, go beyond everything I’ve done so far. I wish Albert Park would find a publishing home and am working hard on making that happen. But in my writing brain — I’m in that new era of the next book I’m working on. The published work (i.e., the mysteries) are almost a distant past to where I am now. Don’t get me wrong — I love Arvo and Christine and I know you are gonna love Burnt Out, but the present ‘state’ of my creative mind is in travel mode. Arvo and Christine are still there in my writer’s hometown, but I’ve already passed through Albert Park and am off exploring places in the Big Cheesy novel (note that this last link concerns writing done half a year ago already! — much more has happened in the Big Cheesy novel not posted here).
Writing – from creation to publishing – is a longer journey than you’d believe. There are lots of rest stops, detours, Uturns, round-a-bouts and traffic jams. (Many, many traffic jams as there are so many writers with wonderful works on the same road I am.)
Deep breath. Dig in. OK, I will stop whining now.