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I’ve turned in my revisions to the Bad Houses script. This may or may not be the last round of changes. I’m waiting to hear.

I’m waiting as I write for Tamora Pierce’s flight to arrive. I always like to be early; knowing that I’m where I’m supposed to be. (Portlanders, do you have tickets for her talk tomorrow night? There aren’t many left…)

And I’m waiting to plunge back into my next prose novel. This is a more active kind of waiting, reading through notes and the various stabs in the direction of a draft that I’ve managed to accumulate, gearing up to actually outline it, that deeply annoying but necessary-to-me stage of the process.

What am I waiting for in this case? My lens to refocus. I need to stop noticing the sort of thing that resonates with the Bad Houses plot and characters, and start absorbing phenomena that will inform the new book. It’s a little like letting your eyes get accustomed to sunlight, maybe a little more like growing used to a different climate, figuring out how to dress for the weather.

How do you move from one large project to the next? Any rituals to recommend?

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