I was at a dinner party the other night when someone said, "So – tell us about the novel."
That’s the kind of question that makes me quail. It’s probably a delayed reaction to the hated question that all actors get at non-theatre parties – "So, you’re an actor. Act something." Dance, monkey, dance!
So, in answer to the question about the book, I gave my uber-glib answer: "It’s the backstory to Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet." As if that explains everything.
Jan chided me for that on the way home. She pointed out, quite rightly, that R&J may have been the novel’s jumping off point, but it quickly became only a sub-plot, a background drama interwoven with the main story. The Master of Verona has a little of everything – warfare, mystery, romance, political intrigue, betrayal, murder. Even a recipe for fish.
Yet I still find myself using the glib answer. Talking about it is awkward for me. I never assume that people have the ten or twenty minutes it will take me to get ramped up and explain things. Not that I’m embarrassed by the novel – quite the contrary. Aside from my son, it’s the best thing I’ve ever created. But speaking about the book makes me a little bashful. I’d much rather someone else did it for me, as my wife did at the party.
Really, I can’t wait for people to read it. Then I’ll talk about it all night. I want questions, I want people to prod and poke and make me defend every choice – I want to discuss it! Thank God for those friends of mine that have copies – and thank God, too, for the second novel to focus on. And the third, and fourth. All of them are in the pipe at the moment. And I’m taking the time to fiddle with another Shakespeare series, as well as a tv pilot and a play. All as a way to kill time until July.
When, of course, everyone will be reading Harry Potter, me included. I suppose I’ll have to wait until August to discuss my book with people. Sigh.
Really, I’m a very impatient person. Ask anyone. I’m all for instant gratification. So, let’s get this party started, already!
Soon. Soon.
