But I don’t blog here… much. Do I?
I assume I’ll have something to say eventually, but for now I’m in this weird waiting game.
My first novel comes out in August, and I have nothing to do right now concerning its success or failure. My first picture book comes out in October.Â Same story. Neither book is close enough to publication for publicity, and both are DONE!Â My second novel is in a rough stage, but I handed it in, and until my wonderful editor comes back to me,Â I can’t do anything to/for it.
From time to time I scribble new picture books you will never see because they are (I am told) “weird” and “not quite picture books” and sometimes, “too high concept to make sense.”Â And that’s all fine. But none of that is worth telling you about.
So what can I say here.Â What can I, who is so accustomed to running off at the mouth (or fingertips, really) share?
I wonder if I should fold all the blogs into one another, and tell you about my regular life– the tornado that hit my neighborhood last week (and the scary hour I spent beneath the IKEA with 2 screaming kids waiting it out), the pneumonia we just lived through, the daffodils pushing up through the read Georgia clay.Â I wonder if you want to know that I’m currently a little obsessed with ranch houses, and am dreaming about a full-on 1950′s renovation.
And I wonder if I should bring Kid*Lit(erary) on over here too? If I should bore you with my reviews of Eloise in Moscow and Mister Dog and the Keeping Days? If you want to follow me along on my Poetry Fridays?
Is it time to let go? To give up my life in Blogger? To condense my little virtual worlds?
I’ve been thinking a lot latelya bout how “better” can be the enemy of “good”.Â About how sometimes what will suffice is wonderful, and the best is a headache.
Am I ready for what will suffice? Am I ready to live here, on this page?Â Just here?Â What do you think?