I have a new book coming out, that I can't quite shout about yet. Which gets me thinking about the what comes after. I’ve gotten my joy out of the manuscript and the processes of writing: everything after that is a bonus.
But I also write to be read.
And once your work is out there, all you really want is for your books to find the right readers, whoever they may be: the people who are going to get a kick out of your word choices, your characters, the way you move a story, the way you build a world. The ones who are ready to go into that world with your words and see it with their own.
The other day I saw some concept art for a couple of silly (very silly, but wonderful) picture books I have written, and the work was exciting, and not how I expected it, but absolutely how it should be. I was delighted, and that is a very special sort of reading, and a very special sort of response to words and I have been very lucky to have that a few times.
But you get that every time someone reads your work, you both build a world together, and it’s never how I expect that world to be. How could it? The reader brings their own world to it, and that combination is a richer brew than the stuff in my head alone.
My next book had a rather tortuous genesis, but it served its purpose well. It got me through my troubles (there’s always troubles), and gave me comfort, and I got to know a bunch of people that didn’t exist before I started, but feel like old friends now. I also had a baby and, just before this book is born, another baby is coming, so I am having all sorts of feelings around this book*.
Mostly, I hope the book will find its readers. I hope that people enjoy it.
And if you do, please feel free to get in touch: I’d love to know the world we built together.
*Mostly mitigated by the book I am currently writing which directly explores a lot of that, and has gotten me through a year of Covid, and little sleep (our child is not a good sleeper, so neither are we)