If you haven’t heard me squawking about it yet, my second book, Finding Destiny, is now available through Amazon.com. The follow up to Fixing Destiny has got me thinking about the process and realizing that second books are like second kids.
The first one you wrap in bubble wrap. You carry hand sanitizer around and spray it at any cooing onlooker within twenty feet before they can get too close. You swear off anything non-organic, banish sugar, and keep the noise level in the house to below “pin-drop” during nap times. This is your amazing creation after all, and that’s what it deserves.
Then along comes the second child.
Second children tumble down the stairs (more than once…maybe even three times, relax she only lost a couple of base memories) They eat dirt-speckled suckers from off of the ground (I did the ‘germ-killing’ blow on it maneuver, it's probably fine), and fall asleep on the sidelines of motocross races (ah, the sweet soothing sound of 200 decibels).
As a result, first children tend to be more cautious. They are more likely perfectionists and pleasers. Consequent children tend to build themselves off of your inattention and the necessary ‘giving-up’ of certain regulations. With the second you are more relaxed, you know that you probably won’t kill it. You know that it will survive without a nap, though you may not, and will still grow even if some meals are comprised solely of tater tots and grape jelly.
My second book was more fun to edit and polish, because I’d let go of so many pretenses I had with the first. I lowered my expectations; not in the quality of the work, but in the outcome of its release. Though the same amount of soul-clenching love was devoted to both, I’m more relaxed when talking about it, and much more willing to take suggestions, make changes, and let go of it’s imperfections.
Raising that little darling to adulthood is over, and I’ve sent it out into the world with all of my love. Now I’ve got its little sister, my third and final book in the series in front of me. I’m not going to cry at its first haircut, (i.e. sending it off to the editor for the first time.) I’m not going to faint when its red-marked ‘knees’ come back.
I finally feel like a writer. Which is something I’ve been waiting to feel for a good while now.
If you have some extra cash laying around and want to help a starving artist (and don't mind a little romance), here's where you can find my books.