Book Proposal

Last December I met with an editor at a New York publishing house. We had a great lunch, enjoyed each other's company, and spent the hour brainstorming on book ideas for my next book. (This stemmed from the fact that I had written a book proposal that she liked, but couldn't publish due to the fact that some other (horrible, mean, awful) person had decided to write a similar book just a few months before I did.) I went home, promising her a new book proposal within a few months.

Much to my mortification, it is now ten months later, and still she has nothing on her desk from me. I haven't been incommunicado -- we continued to be in touch, we narrowed down our focus, I gave her some initial paragraphs on the subject, and she knows that I have been side-tracked due to finishing up another book on Einstein.

But really, this is absurd. I handed in the Einstein manuscript exactly a week ago, (only, mind you, three weeks later than the contract asked for it, which in publishing terms is basically On Time, and so I feel very proud of myself) and it is time to get this new proposal knocked out, dammit. In addition to the fact that I promised it to the editor ages ago, finishing the proposal will also help with the twin issues of freeing me from having to cringe and/or panic any time my father asks me "what's happening with that book proposal?" and of getting an advance to help me with, you know, buying food.

So, this is my task for the next week. I am setting myself a deadline of October 3, and writing it down here for the world to see. This would be ambitious if I were starting from scratch, but I am not. I have written a solid half of the proposal already, in fits and starts over the last year, and have done most of the research. All that's needed at this point is the ability, as Letitia Baldridge said in a talk I heard her give yesterday, to apply the seat of my pants to the seat of the chair.

Indeed, I have spent two hours this morning editing what I already had and writing an additional 500 words or so. That sounds embarrassingly paltry when put down like that, but I was proud of it a few moments ago -- I guess just because I have been reminded again of what happens every single time, and yet doesn't sink into my consciousness. Sit down, turn on the computer, force yourself not to leave (helped in the current case by the fact that I'm at my favorite coffee shop, Tryst, and cannot be distracted by the overwhelming urge to go clean my closets) and lo! the writing actually starts to flow. For goodness sake, I've been researching this topic for almost a year, I have the information in my head, it's time to get it all on paper.

A week. I have given myself a week.