When I first set out to write about six years ago, I never had a clue just how much time an actual novel deal would take up. Here’s where I’m at now: I’m currently working on polishing up the final draft of the second Legends of the Red Sun book. (I have a title, by the way, but I’m holding it back for now.) On top of this, I’ve been firing off interviews for publicising Nights of Villjamur.
My mind is spit across three time lines. I’m a year ahead of now (in publishing terms), whilst I’m skipping back to answer interview questions on book one. Meanwhile I’m thinking of the plot of a third book. And I’m very conscious of keeping to a rate of one title a year, as best of I can.
There’s other publicity stuff behind the scenes too, arranging signed copies with various folk, considering signings, doing local press stuff, and generally keeping on top of significant increase in emails. Add the obligatory few minutes of ego-surfing for reviews…
And somewhere in all of this there’s a personal life to fit in, apparently. Oh yeah, and with a full-time job too. So I can very much understand sentiments such as these.
None of these are, of course, bad problems to have, but if you are someone hoping to be a novelist, do keep in mind the heavy baggage that comes along with it. Bohemian hermits would not cope well. But all is not such misery! Ten copies of the book arrived, in one of those massive Macmillan boxes I used to open when I worked in bookstores. When you see the copies stacked up, you know it’s all worth the effort. Two weeks or so until publication.
