The Worms Of Heaven is drawing to a close. I have, I suspect, one more chapter and a brief epilogue to write. I’m still not entirely certain how it will be published–I do have hopes that I can interest a publisher in the Book Of Lost Doors series.
I will be looking for beta readers, and offering pre-release copies in the digital format of your choice. Not yet, but soon.
I have been thinking over how to market the book, both to a potential publisher and to readers. I still can’t sum up what, exactly, the book is about. I can give a synopsis of the plot, but that doesn’t feel like it tells a potential audience anything important.
It’s not a book about what, it’s a book about whom.
When I think about this novel, it’s the characters that come to mind. James & Catskinner, Cobb Russwin, Stuart Dogs, Nancy Dew and Suzi Lightning, Jenny Noir, Kay the Blue Metal Boy, Exquisite and Precious and Sublime, and most of all Agony Delapour, who is The End Of The World, walking around in a little red cocktail dress.
Honestly, it’s more Soap Opera than Sci Fi. The action, the violence and chaos, fire, blood, and screaming–that’s just to give the talking heads something to talk about. It’s a book about people, and what they choose to become, and how how to keep loving someone who is turning into something that you don’t understand.
I think it’s better than my first two books, deeper, coming closer to whatever it is that I want to say. I think that I’m a better writer than I was two years ago when I was writing Catskinner’s Book. I learn by doing.
I’m less concerned with trying to fit a particular niche than I was then. I’ve stopped worrying about genre, because I am comfortable in the world I’ve made and because there are enough of you who have come to visit and enjoyed your stay.
After I wrap this one up I want to concentrate on Eisenstrasse for a while, an entirely different sort of project that stretches me in entirely new ways. I’ll also be actively looking for short story collections.
I will go back to The Book Of Lost Doors for at least one more novel after this one, probably several more. I haven’t run out of things to say yet. I don’t know that I’ll start on the next book, Gingerbread Wolves, right away, though. I’d like to do other things for a while, try out my newly sharpened literary machete in fresh jungles.
It’s been good, writing this book. Often frustrating, yes, and sometimes downright infuriating, but all in all a good experience. I told the truth and made it rhyme.