No matter what I'll be doing in terms of full-time work next year, I will have another book out. After five years of work, When We Were the Kids finally arrives, even if it's via self-publishing.
The hard thing is letting this story be unleashed to the world. I'm not embarrassed by what I've written; I'm more like a protective parent who doesn't want his child to get beat up on the playground within an hour of going to school.
What's very hard about writing a fictional story is that I have a hard time knowing when something is truly "done." Storytelling and editing collide and you become addicted to tweaking. I'm convinced that if it weren't for deadlines, most books would never be published.
I have intentionally only showed snippets of the book to a couple of people. I don't want too many proverbial cooks in the kitchen, but I appreciate honest feedback. And I want the kind of feedback that doesn't tear me limb from limb under the thin veil of "honesty." I want honest feedback, but not something that gets personal and offensive. So far, the feedback has been very helpful.
Maybe I'm in the wrong business, but I can't suppress this book inside my head and my hard drive forever. This is something I want out there. Yet I tend to find myself coming up with more anecdotes every few days, wanting to tweak some more.
One last thing: I'm happy to say I have taken the book's cover image, using items that are literally behind my computer desk. I just so happen to have a drum set, guitar and bass, and amps around whenever I feel the urge to play. Since this is a story about how people came to play music (and most of them still play it), I figured this was a perfect sort of set-up for a book cover.
So, there's the update. Once this sucker comes out, you'll hear about it, at least from this spot.