My New Novel

As Sarah mentioned earlier, my latest novel, Twisted City, was recently published. As is usually the case, while I’m out, publicizing my current book, I’m very much absorbed in the next one….

My new novel for Vintage Books is just about finished. It’s quite long–longer than anything I’ve written so far. I have a probable title, but I haven’t told it to anyone yet. The length is just about all anyone knows about the book. I haven’t shown any of it to anyone–not even my wife. I’m particularly secretive about my work. I try not to discuss my unfinished books with anyone. If my agent or editor wants to know specifics, I’ll tell them of course, but I’m private about as much as possible. Part of this is superstition–or at least that’s what I always say. I tell people, “I don’t want to let the energy leak out”–whatever the hell that means. Actually, I have no idea why I feel so uncomfortable discussing my unfinished books. Maybe I’m just weird, need therapy, but I like to keep the books a total secret for as long as possible. There’s really no logic to it. For all my wife knows, I haven’t even been writing a novel for the past year or so. Maybe I’ve been playing video games or typing “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” over and over again…

When you keep stuff to yourself, such as an entire novel, you create fertile ground for paranoia. I’m at the stage right now where I’m convinced that my new book is either absolutely brilliant or it absolutely sucks–there’s no in between….As I get into my revisions, I’m sure my manic-depressive extremes will relax. I’ll have some distance from the project and be able to see it more objectively…But right now I have no idea how anyone–including me–will perceive what I’ve written. It’s a familiar feeling that happens every time I’m completing a book, and I’m handling it the way I always do–I’m started the next book….A psychologist I know who studies “creativity” has told me that it’s common for artists to start their next work as they are finishing a current one. Apparently, it’s some kind of emotional safety net or something…So maybe I’m not alone. Am I?