It’s Christmas Eve. All the ordering (and returning and re-ordering) is finished. All the errands—purchasing gifts and cards and wrapping paper and gift bags, all the packing and mailing of gift boxes, all the shopping for holiday meals and parties and events—it’s all done. At least, it’s as done as it’s going to be, because all the stores have closed for Christmas.
Which means that it’s time for a respite. That respite is Jolabokaflod.
Originating in Iceland, Jolabokaflod translates approximately as “Christmas book flood” or “Yule book flood.” It’s a cozy holiday tradition celebrated on Christmas Eve. For Jolabokaflod, everyone exchanges books as gifts. Then, they spend the evening snuggled up with their new books and hot chocolate or other festive drinks, savoring the peace of the evening and the company of loved ones as they immerse themselves in stories.
Come on, admit it. You figured I threw in the towel, especially since my last blog post had nothing to do with this project.
Well, maybe. I mean, it’s been a while.
I’ll admit, I’ve missed two days (which is why this was Day 52, not Day 54). And some of my writing days have been fairly minimal—half an hour (or less), or just research, or mainly reading and editing. It’s certainly been no #1000wordsofsummer this year.
But that’s actually a good thing.
Sure, right.
No, really, I’m not making excuses. For where this book is now, a daily word goal would have been counterproductive. Word goals are good when you’re putting down the first draft and figuring out the story. That’s not where I am now. At this point, I’m fleshing out a piece of the story that I’d found wildly intimidating. By going slowly and including research, I’m making real progress, not just slap down some words and call it done progress. I’m cutting phrases and lines and paragraphs and whatever else needs to go. I’m editing what was already there to accommodate the new material. I’m seeing how the new stuff is going to impact what came before, such as where I need to drop in references so that what happens in the climactic section isn’t coming out of the blue. (I hate it when I get broadsided by critical information just at the pivotal moment. It’s like reading a murder mystery and being told on page 332 of a 335-page book that the main suspect had a twin brother nobody knew about, and the two planned the murder together, with one of them accepting an award at a black-tie event—perfect alibi—while the other committed the murder.)
The reality is that barring a flat-out miracle—including three months when I don’t have to practice law and yet money magically appears in the bank every month, as well as a brilliant (and affordable) editor who is free to drop everything and spend four weeks helping me turn this mess into a masterpiece—there is simply no way this book will be out for the holidays this year. I hate that so much. At book events last year, I kept telling people that the new book would be out this year. Now, I’m making myself a liar. The only option would be to write and publish a novella-length piece in this series, except that there isn’t time to do that because I’d have to start from scratch and it’s already the middle of June and I have no ideas for something short and self-contained. I can’t even use the first section of the present book, because there’s nothing particularly Christmasy about it, and if I’m going to publish a novella about Santa Claus at the holidays, it needs to be Christmasy. Plus, because I’m me and I require everything to fit together, it would somehow need to advance the series.
Sigh.
You’re probably wishing right now that this was another post about ecclesiastical garments. Mea maxima culpa.
Except . . . you know. . . .
No. Absolutely not. It wouldn’t work.
Well, maybe. . . .
Forget it. I’m sticking with the manuscript in progress.
But what if. . . ?
This is ridiculous. I can’t get distracted. Not now. I cannot go from start to finish on another book–especially not in time for the holidays. It is not possible. It doesn’t matter that there’s this one large, gaping hole in the narrative, and there isn’t room in this book to deal with that issue because it would make the book much longer and it doesn’t fit anywhere with any of the rest of the story anyway, so it would have to be separate anyway except that it wouldn’t be long enough to be a novel by itself, so. . . .
I’m just saying. . . .
Oh, shut up.
Photo credit: fr0ggy5 on Unsplash
Well. I certainly didn’t see this coming when I started this post. And I don’t know whether it’ll be possible anyway.
But it would address that gaping hole, which is nice because the book I’m currently working on is the final book of the series, so this would take care of that issue before I get to the finale. Not that anybody has ever mentioned the hole. Maybe I’m the only one who sees it. Maybe it’s not really a hole at all.
I hate moving away from the book in progress now, just when I’m finally getting a firm handle on it. After all, do I really have to have a new book this year? Of course not. Nobody’s going to cry if I tell them it’s not happening this year. Most of the people from last year’s events probably won’t remember anyway. It’s not as if they’re sitting around saying, “Oh, I can’t wait for [fill in the event], because P. Jo Anne Burgh said she’s going to have a new book this year!”
Reading at Raymond Library, Oakdale, Connecticut—November, 2023
Even though October has several days left, the Season is officially under way. Opportunities to join events where I can sell books, whether exclusively for authors or with broader appeal, are coming thick and fast. On Tuxedo Cat Press’s website, the upcoming events page is being updated at least once a week.
This is now my third holiday bookselling season, and so I’d like to share with you a few more things I’ve learned—and continue to learn—about managing some specific aspects of the Season:
Last weekend, Tuxedo Cat Press had a tent at the South Windsor Apple Fest. I had no idea how popular the event would be, but I hadn’t done an event in two months, so when another author had to bow out and offered me her spot, I signed up. I figured I’d hang around, talk to some people, and maybe sell a couple of books.
It was a long day, to be sure. I arrived at 7:15 a.m. to set up, and I didn’t get home until nearly 7:00 p.m. But it was a good, fun, and productive day, complete with perfect New England autumn weather and a visit from Chuckles, the official mascot of the Lutz Children’s Museum (and my neighbor). Best of all, sales were excellent, which always makes for a good event.
In two weeks, the Season begins in earnest. This weekend and next are my last unbooked ones until after Christmas. I recently confessed to someone that one of the main reasons I keep my Upcoming Events page on Tuxedo Cat Press’s website up to date is that otherwise, I’m likely to forget where I’m supposed to be, much less when.
Some authors don’t like to do fairs, holiday markets, and other types of events that aren’t “literary.” It’s all a matter of what you like, I suppose. That, and whatever works.
When you’re trying to stick with a writing program, it helps to have a buddy to keep you on track.
My buddy is Charlotte.
As I mentioned earlier this week, I usually start getting ready for my writing time a little before ten o’clock in the evening. Yes, I know that for some people, ten o’clock is bedtime, but I haven’t gone to bed that early since the eighth grade. These days, on a typical weekday, I finish work around seven or seven-thirty. Then, it’s time to feed the cats and make my own dinner. I usually eat somewhere around eight-thirty or nine o’clock, so by the time I finish and clean up, it’s getting close to ten.
The beginning of the year is a time for starting over. We sweep away old habits, old messes, old goals we didn’t meet, and in their place, we impose new ones. This year, we tell ourselves, this year will be different. This year, we’ll exercise, eat better, work harder, have more self-control. We’ll set goals and then achieve them, whether they’re little goals like losing ten pounds or big ones like selling that book we’ve slaved over for years for a six-figure advance. Of course, the internet is replete with cautionary advice about not trying to do too much, but what does the internet know about dreams?
I published Becoming Mrs. Claus last fall. Those who were reading this blog last winter know that at that point, I never thought it would happen. I was ready to trash that book and work on something, anything else.
When my sister was in fourth grade, her teacher assigned the class to interview someone with a list of questions she had prepared. Julie chose my father. One of the questions was, “What do you dislike?” Dad’s answer was prompt and memorable: “Waiting and lumpy gravy.”
I don’t recall ever encountering lumpy gravy, but I do have substantial experience with waiting. Suffice to say, I am my father’s daughter on this issue.
Sometimes, though, the wait time isn’t nearly long enough. Take the holiday season, for example. Traditionally, everything was crammed in to the roughly four-week period between Thanksgiving and Christmas. This year, though, I noticed that Christmas preparations seemed to begin as soon as the last trick-or-treaters trooped down the driveway with their bags of candy. My neighbors had had a pair of 12-foot tall skeletons in front of their house since mid-September; within a week of Halloween, the skeletons had been replaced by a giant inflatable snowman and a Santa statue. (The snowman deflates approximately every other day, but they’re vigilant about reinflating it.) It’s as though people decided that they want more time to get ready for the holidays so they don’t have to fret about delayed packages and sandwiching holiday obligations between regular ones.
As of this writing, I’ve read Amy Tan’s essay, “Angst and the Second Book,” at least twenty times. I’ve referred people to it. I’ve quoted it. I’ve underscored passages (and I’m not casual when it comes to writing in books).
Right now, this essay resonates in my soul.
Because on November 15, 2023–less than two months from today–I shall release my Second Book.
Technically, it’s my third book. My second book was a novella entitled, My Brother, Romeo (Tuxedo Cat Press, 2021), which was issued only as an ebook. That release was a deliberate choice. I’d published my debut novel, State v. Claus (Tuxedo Cat Press, 2020), a year earlier. I wanted to build up my backlist, and I knew the sequel to State v. Claus wouldn’t be ready for a 2021 release since, among other things, I hadn’t yet written it. So I published My Brother, Romeo to fill the gap.
My upcoming book, Becoming Mrs. Claus, is my second novel. Like State v. Claus, it will be published in paperback as well as ebook. In my heart, it’s my Second Book.
Relaxing on the hotel’s king-sized bed. October, 2017
As one who has lived with cats for nearly thirty years, I know all too well what it means to say that something is “like herding cats.” (For those unfamiliar with the expression, it means that you’re trying to gather and organize disparate items/events/personalities and it seems that each has a mind of its own and wishes to go off in a different direction.) Even when you love the cats dearly, as I do, herding them can sometimes drive you a little bit nuts.
An apt corollary would be “like indie publishing.”
As managing editor of Tuxedo Cat Press, Charlotte clearly has complete confidence in TCP’s leading author
Nearly 1,100 words tonight. The biggest issue is going to be weaving all this new material into the existing book. But at least the material finally exists. That’s a big deal. So grateful to Jami Attenberg and the #1000wordsofsummer challenge for getting me moving on this!
P. Jo Anne Burgh 