Really, it is. It's good to do things that scare the shit out of you.
Take the Phone Call. It's my agent, Sandy, whom I love in ways that are really quite unreasonable. I'm driving, right? I'm driving and I still take the call. I'm turning into the parking lot of a Home Depot (forever etched in my brain), and I'm finally stopping because my agent is giving me The News.
Night Shade Books wants me. Or, more specifically, they want Deadroads. They love it. They love the original version, with the original suckerpunch ending, because they see where it's going, which is a continuing series.
This is, without a doubt, the scariest friggin' thing I've ever heard in my life. It's like getting a rock lifted from you and the sunlight is nice -- dear God, it's nice -- but it's also illuminating. I'm exposed. Is my slip showing?
You bet it is.
So, forthwith: Night Shade Books is going to publish Deadroads, likely in spring of 2013. God and my editor willing, and in whichever order they give me comments.
This has meant spending the whole summer, or at least the last couple of weeks, telling people about it. The response usually goes like this:
Me: So, uhm, yeah, it's been a good summer.
Friend/Family/Stranger: Really? The weather's been terrible. Though you spent all that time at that wonderful cottage, right?
Me: Yeah. The cottage, it was great.
F/F/S: I wish I had a cottage like that. Did you see any movie stars up in the Muskokas? I hear Goldie Hawn has a ...
Me: OKAY SO MY NOVEL'S GETTING PUBLISHED.
F/F/S: (pause) You've written a novel?
ETA: grammar, folks. A sentence needs a verb.