Starting a new book is an odd mix of thoughts and emotions. When you consider everything that goes into it, it is a big undertaking. Even when you can see it crystal clear in your head it's another thing to build it one character, one tape of the keyboard key at a time.
I love writing. I don't know where it came from but I could do it all the time. It was a belly full of fire that I started a new book. A month into writing it and my belly fire ebbs and flares. This book will be months in the writing.
It was while I was writing this that I showed my wife an unfinished book I'd started, but had shelved it to work on another project. Every day she'd tell me how much she enjoyed it. Now, every writer I know is skeptical when they get praise from family and friends over their work. There's a natural bias and writers are wise to be suspicious of it, which I am. Yet, it as time went on and she got deeper into the book I could see her enjoyment of the book was genuine.
When finished she told me that I should finish it. As tempting as I was I was also aware of how easy it is to play musical chairs with works in progress. I'd already started another book and it would mean putting that on the back burner which made me wonder when/if I'd ever get back to it. I try not to think about the books I've started and left wallowing in the ether. In spite of my resolve my wife convinced me to finish it. There. If it tanks I can blame it on her.
Yeah, I also don't handle responsibility well, either.
So, it's in the works and publishing it in a few weeks.