There is a strange quiet space right now in my head.Â And I’m not sure how best to fill it.Â Â I’ve handed in PENNY DREADFUL and (domestically speaking) our lives are kind of… (is it possible?) sane.
So the obvious next thing to do is to sit down and begin work on a new book, but I’m a little scared. I’ve decided NOT to sell the next book on proposal.Â I want to write it first. I want all the time in the world to get it right, before showing it to anyone.Â And sitting down to begin feels like it might be the first step of a very long journey.
See–here’s the thing:Â all three books I’ve written so far have been almost fully invented, from my ‘magination, or rooted inÂ other, older books.Â But this, this new book, this book I’ve taken to calling, “The magical divorce book about seagulls” is, to some degree, my own story.
Unless it changes dramatically (it could! They usually do!) from what’s in my head, this book will be about an 11 year old girl who moves, after a divorce. It will be about being an older sister, and about missing your father, and blaming your mom.Â It will be about magic, and matter.Â It will NOT be (obviously) autobiographical, but it will draw on my own childhood experience in Baltimore.Â Which is something I’ve been afraid to do, until now.Â It may be in first person.
Also, it will likely be a terrible mess.
There is a magical breadbox in it.
Yes, a magical breadbox.Â And seagulls, lots of seagulls.
God help me.
<bites fingernails and buries head in hands>