When you're at your second best

Spider-Man 2 was better than the first, thanks to the scripting of Pulitzer Prize winner, Michael Chabon A mathematician would call it a regression toward the mean. A computer programmer would call it a second-system effect. In sports, music, television—and publishing, it’s called the Sophomore Slump.

When someone mentions sophomore meltdowns, I can’t help but think of Cardinals pitcher Rick Ankiel, who went 11-7, with 194 strikeouts during his first full season in the majors. But by playoff time, the 20-year-old phenom was practically beaning the mascot. Even the beer-man was ducking when Ankiel took the mound. Now he’s an outfielder.

And writing-wise, there’s Charles Frazier­­—who set the bar so high with his award-winning debut, Cold Mountain, that his second novel, Thirteen Moons, was bound to draw unfair comparissons, especially when his book advance was $8 million. (That’s $.6 million per moon…just sayin'.)

So here I sit working on book #2­­--my untitled sophomore effort. Am I worried about the Sophomore Slump? Nah.

It's true, the writing doesn’t get any easier, but am I wringing my hands in doubt. Not even close. Why? Because my first book, the one that sold at auction, the one a local newspaper just called about for an interview—that book was my sophomore effort. I rewrote an earlier novel four times before I shelved it indefinitely to write HOTEL. In my case, the second time really was the charm.

And I’m not alone.

Because for every Rick Ankiel, there’s a Ben Roethlisberger, who led the Steelers to Superbowl XL in his second season. (And yes, I still think the Seahawks got jobbed in that game!) And for every Charles Frazier, there’s a Khaled Hosseini, whose second novel, A Thousand Splendid Suns, is just as good as his breathtakingly-wonderful Kite Runner. (And who cares if Rick Ankiel isn’t on the mound anymore? He’s still got a better view than those critics in the cheap seats).

So what other sophomore efforts were better than the first?

Congrats! Now do it again...

I once heard award-winning author Mark Childress say, “Listen folks, after you’re published, it doesn’t get any easier. The fears, doubts, frustrations and anxieties are still there waiting for you each and every time.” Thanks Mark.

And you know what? He’s right.

Okay, so I sold a book. (*Insert sounds of champagne corks, quickly followed by whips cracking*). I feel more confident as a writer, but the increased level of expectation almost negates that confidence––at least for my next book. Maybe things will ease up around oh, say, book 35?

So, since HOTEL went on submission, I’ve had plenty of time to work on my next novel; I’ve been doing my research. I’ve been framing a rough outline. And I’ve banged out the first few chapters, in a few different ways. I’m just about ready to dive in. So what’s holding me back? Performance anxiety.

Luckily, tomorrow is Open Mic Night at a local bookstore cafe (commonly referred to as Open Pants Night). I can take those early chapters out for a test-drive. Because nothing embraces your fear and self-doubt like a hot microphone and some freshly printed pages.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

On another note, my mug is up on the Nelson Literary Agency’s website. In the words of Pinocchio: “Now I’m a real boy!”

Deal or no deal? Deal!

There have been several BIG days in my life. Getting a puppy for Christmas when I was six years old scampers to mind. I named the flop-eared mutt Suzie, despite the fact that he was a boy. Suzie was obviously tormented by his gender-confusion and ran out in front of a logging truck, but that’s another story.

Another big day was the night of my homecoming dance—sophomore year. I had a real car, a real date and was on the receiving end of one of the sweetest and most sincere kisses imaginable. Front porch, corsage and cheesy rented tux included. I remember going to work the next day (I worked as a bus boy) and beaming. The salty waitresses all thought I’d gotten “lucky”. I did, just not in the way they’d imagined.

And of course, how can I not mention the birth of my kids as big messy days with lots of heavy breathing, pushing and crying—and that was just me trying to get the car-seat in correctly. (Thanks folks, I’ll be here all week).

But today is big too. Because after weeks of wondering if it’s too good to be true, it’s official. I’ve got a book deal––it’s posted over at Publishers Weekly. I. Can't. Stop. Smiling...

“Agent Kristin Nelson just concluded an auction for a debut novel by Jamie Ford titled Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet; Jane von Mehren at Ballantine won North American rights…”

R.I.P. Dewey Decimal System

As if my life weren't geektacular enough, I've finally joined LibraryThing. If you haven't found it yet, it's that handy place where you can catalog your books, and um, do...yet to be discovered...other things.

Their recommendation database thingy still needs some work. (I entered Joy Luck Club and they recommended Louis L'Amour, but hey, it is a beta site). And I'm still browsing their book reviews. I noticed that their most prolific reviewer, bluetyson, has posted a cranium-busting 8,948 reviews! Um, either this kid is on meth, or in a prison cell with WiFi, or possibly both. I mean, who has time to read 8,948 books, let alone write their reviews? Even at five a day that's um, er...it's a LONG time.

LibraryThing. Do you use it? And if so, what for?