I am sitting here as my book prints out on the HP InkJet. No, it is not yet done, my friends. But it is CLOSE. So close I can taste the triumphant email I’ll send to my editor with the words, “here it is! enjoy!”. But alas, not yet.
I thought it would be done by Friday, it is not. I thought, Monday at the latest. Monday came and went. I’m terrible at diagnosing a deadline. And my other problem is that I have another deadline loooooming right after it. Once I put ANGELS to bed, I have BLUE BLOODS MASQUERADE to whip into shape.
The great thing about being so busy is that I don’t have any time to think of anything but the books, so I don’t have to worry and obsess about the reviews or responses to the books I have out right now, because I am all wrapped up in the books that are coming out next year.
This is probably the fifth draft I’ve printed–I always do a big print out to see the book as a whole. Right now my problem is structure, plot and pacing. I worry about the descriptions and details later. As Ernest Hemmingway said, a novel is architecture, not interior design. It’s got to have a solid foundation before I can add all the frippery.
I’m afraid it’s still a tad wobbly in spots, so I’m printing it out again so I can see where I can put in another steel column to hold it up.
Like Blue Bloods, this one starts off all slow and mysterious and then ends in several hairpin turns. But I’m hoping I haven’t driven this book off a cliff…
In between waiting for my book to print, I have been reading Toby Young’s The Sound of No Hands Clapping. This book is HILARIOUS. His first one was awesome, and this one is great as well–so dishy (I love that he tells us how much his option for the film was ($70,000), and what “Nick Hornbyesque option money” means – 2.5 million dollars, to those who haven’t read the book). I love money dish. It’s so rare to know exactly how much writers really earn, and I really appreciate a writer who talks about it honestly.
Toby also tells us that the amount of writers who earn money ONLY from writing books is in “the low 200s”. I pinch myself because I am in that number. I don’t write magazine articles anymore asking men to wear their penis size on their t-shirts (A true story I did for Marie Claire) nor do I have to goad celebrities into doing interviews with me (when I was the celeb columnist for Rosie). All I do is write books, all the money I make is from books.
Money to buy the new house, money to buy cars, money to buy food, money to shop at Barneys, money that keeps our life going, and to pay for all the kinds of insurance we need. Money so that Mike could quit his job and start his architectural practice. All from the books.
The pages are done printing, so it’s back to ANGELS I must go…