February 25, 2009

The anxiety knob gets turned up to 11, Spinal Tap-style.

Well, tomorrow I’m going to be chatting with my editor about the nebulous new novel, tentatively titled THE LONG WAKE. (Huzzah alliteration.)

This has me surprisingly concerned. I guess that with getting one novel submitted and having people tell me it’s good, I now have a crawling fear that upon reading the second novel everyone will raise their eyebrows and say, “Good gods! How could we have ever mistaken this demented young man for a writer!” and then have some thugs pummel my midsection. The sense that I am faking it and not at all making it is almost overwhelming.

Well. We’ll see. There’s probably not a lot I can tell you about THE LONG WAKE or the production proceeds, but I’ll tell you what I can. So far, just the darling girlfriend, the similarly darling grandmother, and my go-to beta reader have read it. They’ve all liked it, with the darling girlfriend liking it more than MR. SHIVERS (this may be an issue of subject – murderous hobos probably do not fit her tastes as much as little lost girls and fairy tales), and the beta reader referred to it as “fucking good” and “solid,” albeit in a very raw state, which I knew. And the grandma is required to like it, being a grandma. But still. I doubt. I doubt very hard. If doubting were an Olympic sport, I could probably go and furiously doubt for America.

I don’t think that’s ever going away, whatever happens in the future.