I'm approximately 60 pages into my new novel, and no sign yet of any slowing of the creative process. I haven't written like this in years. The last time I sat and pounded out sixty pages of anything was probably some time around 2004 when Beth and I got married. The manuscript of The Journey of the Tallish Ten (the sequel to The Prince and the Pitchman) is complete and edited and waits only for a time when I can actually get it covered, illustrated, and published, and a large portion of the third novel in that series is also written. Somehow along the way these lost steam somewhere. Either I lacked the time or energy, or the clunky interface of Booksurge derailed me, or I couldn't make the books look the way I wanted them to look. A million excuses. Someday I'll finish that cycle. The first book in the series stands out awkwardly without the follow-up that was always in my head more or less from the beginning.
In any case, the new book is taking shape rapidly, and so far it feels like a winner. Not to seem ungracious or unappreciative of the honor, but frankly, I want to WIN the IPPY for my next novel, not just get third place. I feel like I have an IPPY or DOY Book festival winner in me. Red Ivy Afternoon remains one of the things I've written that I feel pretty good about, but it wasn't the sort of book that this new novel is going to be, and I can feel that already. I'm extremely excited.
Of course this also means my gym membership has been going unused for about two weeks because I'm spending my lunchbreaks on the roof of our building hacking out scene after scene and dialogue after dialogue. I feel more than a little guilt about this, but hey, we all make sacrificies for our passions, right?