Chasing children chasing life
My latest work contract is finished. Now the hallelujahs may begin. Bring 'em on!
I've spent the past few days chasing my daughter and her friend through the park, watching them flit from monkeybars to swings, from shimmering pools to grassy knolls, all the while luxuriating in their joy. This is the essence of summer. Running, laughing, shouting without reserve.
I feel privileged to be invited along.
In more cerebral moments, I've been contemplating what to write, now that I finally have a chance to get back at it. I've decided against reviving two manuscripts: an historical romance I started more than a year ago, for my focus invariably strays from the couple into other territory, a harbinger of defeat for any romance writer; and the historical I abandoned three years ago featuring an unreliable narrator, a ghostly heroine, and a nineteenth-century band of English artists. I have little time and this manuscript, of which I am still fond, requires too much: too much research, plotting, and effort, for I have set the bar high. I know the next contract is just around the corner, and I'd hate to see this manuscript languish yet again.
So I have decided to turn my hand to young adult fiction. After all, the editors and publishers have been urging me to do so for years. Why not give it a go? The research is not onerous: reading Inkheart, Tales of Desperaux, The Secret Garden and A Little Princess, Tom's Midnight Garden, and, today, Bridge to Terabithia. My daughter and I read such books as a matter of course. And I've already begun to see the world through her eyes as I watch her lope through the heat and promise of summer. Nothing else is required beyond imagination and a laptop. And time.
I can't think of a better way to spend the summer.
I've spent the past few days chasing my daughter and her friend through the park, watching them flit from monkeybars to swings, from shimmering pools to grassy knolls, all the while luxuriating in their joy. This is the essence of summer. Running, laughing, shouting without reserve.
I feel privileged to be invited along.
In more cerebral moments, I've been contemplating what to write, now that I finally have a chance to get back at it. I've decided against reviving two manuscripts: an historical romance I started more than a year ago, for my focus invariably strays from the couple into other territory, a harbinger of defeat for any romance writer; and the historical I abandoned three years ago featuring an unreliable narrator, a ghostly heroine, and a nineteenth-century band of English artists. I have little time and this manuscript, of which I am still fond, requires too much: too much research, plotting, and effort, for I have set the bar high. I know the next contract is just around the corner, and I'd hate to see this manuscript languish yet again.
So I have decided to turn my hand to young adult fiction. After all, the editors and publishers have been urging me to do so for years. Why not give it a go? The research is not onerous: reading Inkheart, Tales of Desperaux, The Secret Garden and A Little Princess, Tom's Midnight Garden, and, today, Bridge to Terabithia. My daughter and I read such books as a matter of course. And I've already begun to see the world through her eyes as I watch her lope through the heat and promise of summer. Nothing else is required beyond imagination and a laptop. And time.
I can't think of a better way to spend the summer.
Labels: Eva
posted by Eva at 2:41 am
4 Comments:
Oh, this is good, GOOD news!
The weather here is diabolical, my house is an environmental health hazard and my deadline is crushing, but your vision of summer has restored my sense of optimism!
And I'm so excited that you're writing again...
Eva, Congratulations on all fronts: finishing the contract, relaxing with your daughter, and deciding to write again.
Did you know that Wild Rose now has a young adult line called "Climbing Roses?" I saw it this morning and thought of you.
The heat over here has dissapated somewhat, though I'm now "the thing to hide behind" for my 90 pound Bernice who's terrified of thunderstorms.
India, Good luck with the deadline--keeping the bottle of champagne chilled for the moment you type "the end."
If it's any consolation...I sometimes feel like a pack horse carting around towels, bathing suits/knickers, sun lotion, water bottles, snacks, and money, of course. Kids these days.
Shall check out Climbing Roses, Brown.
Yes, India, how close are you? Always ready to party, as you well know.
Eva - young adult books are SO much fun to write that I sometime think it should be illegal!!!! Anyway, it's great you're writing again and I know you're going to enjoy yourself!!!!!!
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