“There seems to be something about writing that third book for publication that grabs you by the back of the underpants and yanks violently upwards. Or at least that�s the way it feels.”
Having never received a violent wedgie, I’ll have to take his word for it. In my case, I’m suffering from Fifth Book Syndrome, which has progressed in an increasingly crazy fashion from Four and Three and Two and One (which, as Stuart says, was the best of all). Each time I begin a new book, my cup overfloweth with the fine high joy of creative energy – and by the time I’m finished, I feel like the illegitimate love child of the Bride of Frankenstein and Freddy Krueger: wild hair, wild nails, and wild eyes. Not terribly verbal. Prone to random acts of screeching.
Oh, yes. I love this job.