Work in progress

There was an item in Publishers Weekly yesterday about my new book. It’s called Underground Airlines, and it will come out probably in spring of 2016. The publisher is Mulholland Books, an imprint of Little, Brown.

It probably goes without saying that I am super-excited about this news, not least because I’ve been working on this project for quite a while already—over a year at least, moving slowly from mulling to drafting to writing—and it’s a relief to arrive at a moment where it’s real, it’s happening, it’s going to actually be a book.

The big concept of Underground Airlines is that it’s a crime drama that takes place now, in present-day America, except the Civil War was never fought, and legal slavery still exists in pockets of the South. You can already tell, if you know the Last Policeman books, that there are some familiar elements: it’s speculative fiction, it’s a counterfactual, it’s the that world we know except for this one thing that changes everything.

But I can tell you that the hero of Underground Airlines is seriously about as different from Detective Palace as you can imagine, both as a person and as type of hero. And while the  Policeman series was about the end of the world, about death and how we live with death, this book is about race and racism, it’s about grief, it’s about the horror of American slavery (and in particular the Constitutional nightmare of the Fugitive Slave Law), and it’s about compromise.

Well, I mean, I think that’s what this book is about—that’s what it’s about so far. I’m not done. It’s a big book—it’s going to be a big book—so I hope you’ll read it when it’s done and we can talk about it then.

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P.S.  The only blue note in this happy news is that Underground Airlines will not be published by Quirk Books, who did the Last Policeman trilogy and my earlier novels, too. A kinder and more hardworking group of humans you will never meet, in or out of the publishing business. You should buy their books—although if you’re one of the billions who read Ms. Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, or William Shakespeare’s Star Wars, you already have.

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Clancy and the muse

I keep drafting blog posts that start with “sorry I haven’t posted in so long,” but it always seems such an internet cliche to start a post like that, and as a writer I am professional antagonistic toward cliche.

Also, just vis a vis the internet, I can actually measure my success at getting real work done in inverse proportion to how much blogging/posting/updating I am doing, so a long stretch of no blogging, while perhaps detrimental to my hit count, I know also means I’ve been doing a ton of writing, which I actually have. The second half of the third Last Policeman book (as-yet-untitled) is to my editor, and I am pleased—and starting to get a bit of anticipatory sadness about being done, soon enough, with Hank and his world. That’s the business, I guess.

I’ve also completed the third book in the Literally Disturbed series (my scary poems for kids, with great illustrations by Adam Watkins; the first one is in stores now & the second one comes out in the spring, I think), and I’m working on a short story for an anthology I’m extremely excited about, though I’m not sure whether I’m allowed to talk about it yet.

But the reason I’m breaking blog silence is actually to note with sadness the death of Tom Clancy, who I commend to the ages on the strength of this quote:

“[Y]ou learn to write the same way you learn to play golf…You do it, and keep doing it until you get it right. A lot of people think something mystical happens to you, that maybe the muse kisses you on the ear. But writing isn’t divinely inspired — it’s hard work.”

Hard work. Yes. Off to write more.

 

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