Since I finished the first book, sent out my queries and so on, you would be forgiven for assuming that I was now working on finishing off the second book. But as writing (at least when I do it) bears about as much resemblance to logic as most things in Wonderland, this is in fact not the case.*
What I am doing is writing book three. You see, when I used the hatchet to divide Path into two books I also much more delicately excised about thirteen thousand words from the end. They were unreasonably slowing down the plot; they couldn’t stay. But they had important, vital character stuff. With <spoilers>! So I threw them in the general direction of book three, figuring they could fit in there somehow. Problem solved! (Yes, I know. No need to point out the obvious. I like my delusions. Leave them alone.)
But, having at least a tentative grip on reality, I started to develop… concerns about that cheerful assumption. Concerns, like the creeping suspicion that it was sheer unadulterated fantasy. I mean, it’s one thing to say, ‘Rocks fall, everyone dies’, it’s another to make it work for you.
So you can see that my next actions were not at all unreasonable. When I have an idea I have to write a bit to see if it works. It’s the only way!
So I started writing the third book. And went down a rabbit hole. And now it’s a whole new thing.
* No, I’m not taking an extended nap. Or rollerskating in the house. Honestly, people, what do you think I get up to during the day?