I talked about some of the odd books I read last year over at The Book Smugglers.
I also just sent the dedication for Walking The Tree. I’m never quite sure what to say in a dedication. I know I always need to mention my kids, because they get a great thrill out of it. But there are so many other people I make a list then ignore it, because I can’t dedicate to them all and I hate to leave anyone out.
I’m feeling just as excited about this, my second novel, as I did about the first. I loved writing it, loved researching it. I have boxes of notes taken while I was in Fiji, mostly descriptions of the beach, the sand, the coral, the trees. I find I’m like a vacumn when I’m thinking about a book or a story; everything gets sucked in. At the moment it’s all Amelia Earhart and rice, with a bit of lost cities thrown in.
I unpacked my storage boxes into the filing cabinet yesterday and it reminded me how long I’ve been working at being a writer. There is stuff going back 30 years; first drafts, edits, letters to editors, notes to self. I still love it. I really love it. I’m working on edits for Mistification this week and I wake up early, excited to get going. Of course, my kids wake up early too and need love and attention, but I’ve trained myself over the years to be able to snatch five minutes here, ten minutes there and make use of the time. Right now I’m deciding just what should happen to a boyfriend who discovers he was fed eagle egg to protect him from magic. Should it end badly or well? I can’t decide. I guess I’ll have to write it twice and see which one works out the best!