Writing Time

Except for a lovely Easter brunch with Anne, Kevin, and Eric, and a routine checkup at the eye doctor, I’ve done little but write for two weeks. I always have difficulty starting a new book but once I get into it I become completely absorbed and don’t want to do anything else. Right now I’m at the point where I work all day and then lie in bed thinking about what else I want to say and how to say it. In the mornings, I make coffee, let Lucy out, and go straight to my office in my bathrobe, often putting in a couple of hours before I realize I’m hungry and have not yet had breakfast.

This week, my obsession coincided with the opening of baseball season, which presented a dilemma. I ended up watching most of the first two Mariners games, but with a notebook in hand so that I could scrawl thoughts during the muted commercials – and often during the Athletics’ turns at bat. When the games ended, I logged these new additions into the book, staying up too late in the process.

You may have noticed that I didn’t mention what it is that I’m working so hard on. Sorry. I can never talk about a book while I’m writing it. It always feels fragile at this point, as if it will fall apart if I display the idea in public too soon.

My agent of many years, Emilie Jacobson, has retired. I thank her for the many years of representation, the thirty-five books she sold for me, and her staunch advocacy of my work. She has a great sense of humor, and I will miss the wry comments in her correspondence. Shelter Dogs is dedicated to her.

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