I’m at that point in working on a new book when I ask my wife if I can read the manuscript to her. This is not a casual moment. Aside from being very smart, my wife is patient.
I have learned that one of the companies I publish with was sold to another publishing company half a year ago. Today—six months later—was the first time I heard about it.
This writer’s new-year resolutions: Get through to the next year. Stay healthy. Exercise hard so that I can finish the two books I’m working on. Write every day. Become a better writer. Write my best book ever. If I can. Meet deadlines. Think about that next book I might write. Get the two books scheduled for publication into my hands Read
Here we are at that rolling time of the year when we are besieged by lists of the best, the ten best, the hundred best.
A good number of years ago I read—I don’t recall where—that a work of children’s literature achieves semi-permanence if it can last for something like twenty-five years. A generation.
After half a year of work, I sent a new manuscript to my editor. It was far from being totally done, but it was a good start. More than that. I liked it.
In the November issue of On Wisconsin, the alumni magazine for the University of Wisconsin, there’s an article about my career. “A Rocky Road to Literary Success” begins …
As for that diary, it is full of energy and enthusiasm, with a great deal about reading and writing … there are long lists of the books I am reading, books that have nothing to do with my school.
I just spent a weekend with Henrietta, my two-years plus three months granddaughter. Etta, as she calls herself, is very verbal, and while I don’t understand everything she says or feels, it is clear she has two passions: trains and board books.
As someone who has written a lot of first lines, I know how hard it is to create them. In truth, I spend a lot of time, with many, many revisions, attempting to get them right.