Today, I sent my agent the proposals of my next two books. You read that right. OK, it might have taken me awhile but ever the over-achiever, I felt the need to get right back on the horse with a vengeance. So, officially, I’m at work on two books, although, unofficially, I’m working on four. Who can blame me? I can barely read one book at a time.
The reality, of course, is that my agent will come back with feedback, and I’ll probably have to rewrite a lot of it. And I didn’t send him a sample chapter, which normally a second-round author wouldn’t need but we both agreed that I’d write for the sake of knowing how the whole thing would play itself out.
I’ve come to a couple of important conclusions in this whole process. One, writing a follow-up to a first book is tough. Second, while I love reading food memoirs, I wasn’t completely sure that I want to write another one. Not for my sake, but for everyone around me. (“You’re gonna include that?”)
A lot of people have asked about the next book. So far, all I can say is that somewhere between The Sharper Your Knife the Less You Cry and now, I had a bit of an existential crisis. After all, when you’ve accomplished your lifelong dream by attending Le Cordon Bleu at age 36, and are now theoretically living happily ever after with the man of your dreams, what exactly are you supposed to do for the next 30 years or so? That’s the premise.
Book No. 3? That’s a secret… for now.