I'm going to have to lay off the other books for a while. I was about to delve past page three in The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, Vol. II, but I had to put it down. M.T. Anderson is a genius, and reading his book will only frustrate me and my new baby. (And by "baby," I mean my new tale, not my baby.)
You see, when I finished reading Vol I, I had just finished the first draft of Rohana and was depressed for a month. Not only had I just finished writing my very first book, but it was a rough draft and therefore pitiful, and Anderson's novel (a National Book Award winner and Printz Honor) was gleaming and perfect. Yes, the story itself did depress me a little since it made me more aware of this country's dark side during the Revolution, but that wasn't it. I was comparing my dribble to a masterpiece. Not fair, really.
I can't let that happen this time. I can't get distracted by my emotions or by other books. I just don't have the time, what with being a mom of two little kids and all. Besides, my new tale rocks and I don't want to be interrupted.
When I feel like taking a true break from the first draft, then I'll delve into something. But not now. And not another masterpiece.
So back to the library you go, Octavian. May you find your way to safety in Boston. I will rejoin you soon, I hope.