Sparks is with my super duper ace A+ beta reader and buddy, Heidi, to try and make some sense of all my mistakes. But, for all intents and purposes, it’s trunked at least while I write the first draft of NEXT BOOK, which is hereafter referred to as AFTER for a lack of anything else to call it.
I’m more excited about After than I can ever remember being about just about anything (possible exceptions: last episode of Buffy, the introduction of the jelly-tip trumpet). I’ve been struggling with the bones of this story for YEARS. YEARS! And now the eureka moment has happened and the walrus thinks the time has come. The train is leaving the station, the cat is among the pigeons, et cet. I’m struggling just to keep up with the explosion of ideas in my head.
My inner nerd is salivating and gallivanting at all the books on theology and mythology I’m consuming, even if my nosy tendency to over-google is leading me to learn FAR MORE THAN I EVER WANTED TO KNOW, esp. vis-a-vis tribal rituals and religious sacrifice. I know the POINT is to rise above the earthly concerns of body and pain and such, but PLEASE, ANCIENT GENTLEMEN, LEAVE YOUR BOY-BITS ALONE!
Okay. That’s all. As you were.