Well, it's done.
Book number two, or four, depending on how you look at it, is finished. I look at it as two, but that's just me.
I'd tell you the title if I knew it myself yet, but I don't yet. I'm still waiting for it to come to me. And, like every word in the book, it will eventually. I feel like I'm zeroing in on it, with the help of friends and family.
A few statistics about the work:
It stands right now at 75,438 words. This might trend downward a bit depending on what a publisher might do to it. My goal once I saw where it was at was to keep it above 75K words. Why? Should that ever be a criteria for how to write? No. But once I hit it I was determined to keep it around that number. Okay, I'm weird.
It also stands at 240 pages - including introduction, acknowledgements, dedication, and page breaks. I'm guessing this may go up as it gets formatted by a publisher. Again, I wanted to keep it above 240 pages for some unknown bad reason. Dirty Shirt formatted came out to 262 pages which is where I think this one might land. I'm a page geek.
At the moment there is an introduction and eighteen chapters. Like everything else, this could change as the publisher sees fit.
The book is broken, figuratively, into three parts - much like Dirty Shirt. I say figuratively because there are not literal page breaks between the three. Read it though, and you'll figure it out.
It took about seven years to write - not continuous, mind you, but on and off. It would be tough to put an exact number on how long it really took if I hadn't been writing Dirty Shirt and poetry and other things at the same time. I have a short attention span.
It's about the house I grew up in with my 5 siblings and our single-parent mother. It is largely built around humor and the love that turned a house into a home.
So, from here I go on to the submittal process. Hopefully my publisher will like it and it will come to fruition in early 2018.
Whatever the case, it's done. And there's something pretty cool about that.