October 3rd, 2007

book cover

Switching Gears

Last year I spent a good bit of time working on my first novel -- a middle-grade historical piece. I researched and timelined and researched and wrote and read and researched and timelined and wrote and read and...

...my picture book brain stepped in. 

My scope narrowed. 
I started looking at minute words and phrases again. With tenderness. 
I read everything I wrote out loud. Some of it I even sang.

I left my novel in a heap upon the bathroom floor like a dress that didn't fit quite right. 

Now, here I am. 
I have two new picture books tucked in snugly with my editor. They are in her care now. 
I can breathe again.
My scope is stretching wide.
I'm wondering if maybe that dress does do me right after all.

Can I do this? 
Can I pick up where I left off?
Am I too fickle to be trusted? 
Will my main character reveal herself to me again?
Do I really, truly want her to?
Are picture books going to come to me like needy little mice in the middle of the night?
If I put on the dress and go to the party, do I have to stay for the whole dance?
Will my coach turn into a pumpkin?