I've been interviewing with doctors who are in need of a co-author, which depresses me a bit. In the past couple of weeks, I've heard from one doctor who had wanted to work on a book and now wants some time off, not much, just a year or so to think things through. I had a lovely conversation with another doctor who seemed really excited about writing a book on the phone and then sent out an email later saying he doesn't like the idea any more. A third doctor has three writers vying for the position of co-author. We each bid on the project and attend a series of meetings, because it has been explained to me that this doctor wants to feel "truly connected" to the writer. I can understand that, and yet I want a job, not a date.
Meanwhile, I've been reading and writing a lot, trying to catch up on the books I bought in Ireland, but somehow not getting there. Instead, I read Brock Clarke's The Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England, which I heartily recommend. And I'm starting to read Arthur Phillips' The Egyptologist on someone else's recommendation. So far, so good.