Research day today. Part of creating a new book is creating the world the book resides in. And since the Brit in the FBI books are based in New York, there are housekeeping things to manage, like... where does everyone live. Where are the crime scenes? What do they look like? What's the neighborhood like? Where are the bars and groceries?
With the Taylor books, I know this stuff intrinsically because it's my backyard, and if something is questionable, I can just hop in the car and drive to the scene to see what things look like. Not so, this. I'm very grateful for the extensive New York real estate sites, and Google Earth.
Had lunch today with my dear friend Blake (after being shot up like a pincushion at the Dr. - flu shot, measles booster, blood draw - OUCH!) and over a lazy margarita, we were discussing the whole it's hard to get started on a new book phenomenon. I was trying to explain it, and happened upon a decent analogy.
Starting a book is like moving house. It's a totally new adventure, exciting and fun, but there's also all the annoyances -- not sleeping well because of the creak of the steps and strange noises of the new house settling, having to find your way around your new town, finding a new doctor, dentist, hairdresser, school... All these things take time, and energy, and until you have them, and maybe even some new friends, you don't feel totally settled. And even then, it takes a while to really start fitting in, to feel comfortable that you're in the right place.
That's exactly how I feel every time I start a new book. Even unpacking my treasured items-- the characters I know and love--is a chore, because there is so much work to be done, and so much I don't know.
So it was fitting that today was consumed with finding everyone a proper place to live, n'est-ce pas?
Big writing day ahead tomorrow, now that I'm finally starting to settle in. Now, where did I put those wine glasses?