There’s always a “next book”. Whether it’s the next book in your TBR pile, or the next book in your TBB pile, there’s always one there, waiting.
Right now, my ‘next’ book is the one I’m starting to write, and that has to be one of the most terrifying moments in a writer’s life. The blank page (or screen, as it were) sits there, silently screaming “Write something! Write something!” until I want to pull a Stephen King/Jack Nicholson and type 400 pages of “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”
At least the screen would stop screaming “writesomething-writesomething-writesomething” at me.
Looking back at these ‘Devil’ books, it’s odd how each one has been (or is being) written differently. With The Devil’s Daughter, I wrote the entire book first and then the synopsis, because that was the easiest way to do it. And it’s usually faster for me to write a 400-page book and then a 5-page synopsis than it is to try and write *just* the 5-page synopsis. Weird, I know.
Moving on to the sequel. I was about half way through writing Dancing with the Devil (scheduled for release in December) when I suddenly had to stop and write an outline of what was going to happen – or, more accurately, what I *thought* was going to happen. Invariably, the story did not follow the path I thought it was going to, but I still felt better for having sketched out an idea anyway.
This new book has started out completely different. Much to my shock and bewilderment, the first thing I wrote was (gasp!!) a synopsis. Yes, yes I did. Now, as experience has proven, and my editor will attest to, synopses are not my forte, but that’s all right, because she’s a very patient and understanding woman. Thank God. J So the synopsis is written and when I close out of this, all that’s left on my computer will be a new Word doc with the two most important words in every book: Chapter One.
And below that is the same old cursor, blinking that same ear-splitting yet silent cry of “writesomething-writesomething-writesomething.” This time, though, it won’t be screaming for long. In fact, that blinking little cursor is going to wish it’d never messed with me.
What’s your “next” book