This will be a large meeting, or a series of them in which we talk at length with the editor about the direction of the book, and then we'll meet everyone on the "team." We've been told that it is an "excited team." I suppose we co-authors making the trek to NYC are to be known as the "nervously excited team." Maybe we're all nervous. I'm working away at an expanded outline. And another short outline, too, as an extra security blanket. And I'm packing a list of discarded book titles. We've already been put on notice that our provisional title isn't right. We need to generate a list of alternates on which the marketing people can work further. There is also talk of generating a website/blog for the book-to-be. A lot of issues have to be discussed even though they won't become relevant for months, maybe even a year from now. A book like this can't be just a book, it must be a marketing force. It must be armed with special powers, for which we need to be weaving spells now.
My first question while booking train tickets was this: Is another trip to The Seafarer a possibility? Ticket for one, front and center? One last time before it closes in a little over a week? (Yes, I am that crazy.) Can I see my five thespian boyfriends one more time?
Not only did Larry not laugh at this, he didn't even say no. Instead, he said, "Sure. Why not?"I didn't have to flash him even one bogus reason. Not one painful attempt at a brogue. So, I now have a train ticket that gets me into the city just in time to scurry to the theater for the Sunday matinee. And that leaves time enough after to finish the outline in the hotel before the pre-game co-author confab over dinner at which we can work out the jitters.