Sometimes it is so much easier dreaming a book than of course sitting down to a keyboard where the gossamer spell of an entire story shatters with clicks and spaces into a text. I can feel a whole book before I can speak it. Trust, perhaps? But then there is this waiting for the details to become clear, and the hesitant steps into the voice, the energy, and the love that must proceed the unraveling dream before the knitted text.
Circumstances help a lot to nudge one from dreaming to waking and doing. I just received a reversion of rights letter from Tor books for my novel, The Innamorati. And at the same time a query from Tor: after 20 years of not turning in the second book on the contract, would I like to pay back the 12k advance for the second book to nullify the whole contract? I would not. So, here I am after twenty years of procrastinating replying I will send you the finished manuscript October, 1, 2019. (The working title is "The Ungrateful Brides" because I suspect they will be arguing with me through the entire process.)
And that's the moment the story suddenly turns on its engines and starts shouting at me -- all day long, I might add, drowning out any other thought of creative work but on this story. And after such a long dry season, it is both thrilling and intimidating. It will share with The Innamorati a setting in 16th century Italy, from the north in Tuscany, to the south in Sicily and Sardinia. Multiple stories, lovers, enemies, fantastic journeys, magic and yes, always the beloved Commedia to comment on everything, to spice the scenes with their masks and their theater, their poetry and obscenities.