I would be lying if I didn't say I am keeping my fears at bay, too. The market is to weird right now. I hope new novels are not considered a luxury. I hope I can get radio and TV and bookclubs and print reviews. I hope I can get readings, though I'm not convinced that readings sell books. I fully intend to send my publicist flowers in deep appreciation (I work with publicists all the time because of my book columns, and I revere them) and I'll turn myself inside out trying to drum up support for Breathe. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but all those reading, I will send you passionate emails begging for your help and support.
But that is still a year off, and in the meantime, I write, I dream, I write some more, I panic, I write, I obsess, I draw tarot cards, I write. I talk to producers (what bliss! what fun!) and I write, I write, I write.