That Ooey Gooey Feeling

There is something euphoric about starting a new book. And of course I'm talking about writing a new book, not reading a new book. For many of you, I realize that picking up a new book to read can also produce a sense of euphoria, and I have felt that from time to time myself (if the author is a tried and true favorite), but the sense I'm talking about with writing a new book is much stronger. It's like an ooey gooey feeling deep in my chest and gut that produces uncontrollable grins, fits of giggles, and (if I'm not careful) childish hand-clapping. It's really a rather embarrassing syndrome, now that I think about it, but thankfully the discipline of being an author is one mostly practiced in privacy, so giggle and clap away, I say! Last night, as I began writing book 6, I was not in private, however, so my anticipatory energy had to be contained to leg-bobbing and subtle wiggles. I'd been meaning to start book 6 for weeks, but due to a number of circumstances, I hadn't quite gotten around to it yet, and as many authors will tell you, starting is the hardest part, so sometimes it takes a little push to get things going. Well, kids were in bed, and hubs had a new Xbox game to try out last night, so I hopped in the car and drove down to our local Starbucks where I settled in with a frap and The Piano Guys pumping through my ear buds. I was motivated! I was ready. to. go. But truthfully, I didn't get much done at Starbucks. About 30 minutes into my endeavor, the shop was invaded by about twenty junior-high cheerleaders, all wearing pink, and all chattering away. Cheerleading and the color pink. Two things guaranteed to kill my enthusiasm for pretty much anything. I tried not to let my glower show too deeply on my face, but it was nigh impossible to get anything done for the fifteen minutes it took all of them to order, collect their orders, and head out to the patio. And by that time, Starbucks was about to close, so I packed things up and headed home. But it was not an entirely wasted effort, because in that time, I had gotten my word document all set up and formatted, my notes somewhat organized, and I'd even written the first paragraph of my prologue. (Whoa . . . I know. Just let that awesomeness sink in for a moment . . .) But most importantly, I'd gotten my head in the game. Driving home, I came to the realization that I needed to scrap and/or move the single paragraph I'd written in favor of a much better idea for the prologue (this did elicit grins, giggles, and hand-clapping, but I was stopped at a red light, so it was okay), and I began to map out the rest of what would follow from there. Adam wasn't quite finished with his Halo level on Xbox when I got home, and I was so full of that ooey gooey excitement, that I slapped on some workout clothes and ran circles around my neighborhood until my energy was somewhat abated and I had the rest of the prologue solidified. Yes, yes, it was very late to be out running, but it was either that or climb the walls, and honestly, when you are an author who sits on your bum all day (or night in my case) writing, a little exercise is a good idea! Plus, I was a security guard once upon a time, and I kind of pity the guy who tries to mug me. But I digress. Anyhow, back inside, I got changed, returned to Scribbus (my computer) at about midnight, and knocked out roughly 1200 words. So I'm happy to announce that book 6 is off the ground! And I'm even more happy to announce the title for book 6, which I've been sitting on for three years. Drumroll please... book 6, the final installment of The Gateway Chronicles, is called, The Bone Whistle. Yay! If you follow me on twitter (@kbhoyle_author), ask me questions about book 6 using hashtag #TheBoneWhistle, or about book 5 with hashtag #TheScroll or #SaveTellius. I'll answer whatever I can!

And now, to help you feel properly excited, here is a teeny-tiny teaser from upcoming book 5, The Scroll:

Don’t let him deceive you, he said. I am doing everything to Tellius you think I am, and more. Tselloch straightened from the banister and stepped toward her so his height became that much more impressive. Every day that passes, he grows weaker.

“You-you promised to give us until the first day of spring!” Darcy said. She tried to step back, but her feet were rooted to the spot. She clenched her hand around her ring, but the coldness asserted itself with greater intensity.

And I shall, but it will not be easy for him.