Taking London comes out seven weeks from Tuesday. I've been doing this a long time so I know it's best to try not to think about it. The gestation cycle is so long between finishing a book and seeing it in print. I will be euphoric and perhaps weep when I receive my first box of finished copies, cracking it open to hold the new book in my hands for the first time. One book will immediately be placed on a shelf in my library next to the other solo projects. I won't do the thing where I take a video and post it on Insta or tweet about it on X, because it's such a personal moment. Otherwise, I will do my best to put June 11 out of my mind, knowing it will drive me crazy if I count down the days. Eight weeks feel like too far out, just under six is like it's almost there, the Biblical forty days of meditation and temptation. But the last seven weeks always feel like forever.
So how will I spend the time?
Write every day on Taking Midway, which is coming along splendidly. I did the usual thing where I set the first chapter on a certain historical date, then realize the more complete story needs to begin much earlier. Chapter One becomes Chapter Thirteen in a hurry. This is what happens once the story starts talking to me. Happens every single book.
I'll coach my distance runners at Santa Margarita Catholic High School each afternoon. We're entering championship season and my athletes continue to amaze me. My top guys just set school records in the 4x800 relay (7:48) and Distance Medley Relay (10:17) and my top girls are really starting to round into form. League Finals is this Friday, then we begin the countdown to the State Meet in Fresno in May.
I'll make hard decisions about what my next book will be after Taking Midway. Ideally, Midway will finish mid-July. I like to take two weeks and then jump into the next project. These next seven weeks are for lining up that gig.
I'll continue my new daily habit of practicing the guitar. I'd like to become more conversational in French but am taking it one challenge at a time. I know, I know: the French thing sounds a little precious. But it's been on my mind for decades. Let's just do it, for fuck’s sake.
I'm running more. Need to keep that going. Calene tells me my tummy looks smaller, which is nice to hear.
She's doing great, by the way.
There's my anniversary and my birthday between now and the pub date. My neighbor Mike also has a birthday, which is worth noting because we were born in Portsmouth Naval Hospital two weeks apart. We lived two doors down for twenty years before realizing this fact, as well as the amazing coincidence that our parents knew each other well and that our dads flew B-47's together. The birth certificates are from Kittery, Maine, so we call each other the Kittery Boys after a couple cold ones.
Appliances in the Mammoth condo need replacing. All of them except the toaster. I'll head up next month, just in time for the snowmelt and opening of my favorite trails. My cousin Marsha is going up for a week right around June 11 and I'd like them in place for her.
Somewhere around June 1, the first Taking London reviews will roll in. Bookstores get their copies a week later. If you've pre-ordered, you'll get yours in the mail on the pub date.
Finally, and not to get too clandestine about all this, I'm pondering a major career move. You'll know about it before anyone else.
Party on.