Lately, I have been facilitating workshops with my friend and co-facilitator, Scott Gregory, focused on bringing teens and teachers tools for mindfulness, connection, and compassion. It’s going well. In fact, the two of us have decided to start a new business offering workshops and classes for teens and teachers. In fact, it’s moving very quickly!
So very soon, that is where most of my time will be going. So in this little window where it is not (a window of about… oh, a couple of days…) I’ve decided to go ahead and finally, FINALLY, get you guys the third Peter Able book!!!
(Yay! Horrrah! Celebrations! Party hats!)
Without further ado, here is the link to the brand-spankin’ new book, The Actual Account of Peter Able.
Please be sure to leave a review on the Amazon and Goodreads pages once you’ve read the book!
What’s this? You want me to elaborate? I thought the message was pretty clear in the title of the post, but okay, large and empty box…
Book Two is done.
I’d been putting it off for the past two months, since I got back from my summer in London. Why? Probably because not having finished editing it kept it going for me – tied me, in an odd way, to the UK, where I wrote the bulk of it. Because once the edits are done, that means it’s no longer a work in progress, but a complete work – and then what?
What to do when a child leaves the house for good? When the wolf I’ve been raising since he was a puppy must go back into the wild? What, Jack London, WHAT?!
Well, I could do what many newly set-free parents (or wolf caretakers) do – take up some sort of new addiction to fill the time: shopping, drinking, making long distance prank phone calls to China.
Or I could simply write a new book*. After all, there’s one more in this trilogy, and infinite possibilities beyond that.
*This is where the metaphor must end, because while you can just write a new book when the other ends, you really shouldn’t just pop out a new baby every time your other child grows up, or buy a wolf pup when White Fang gets older. Because it’s illegal. Don’t buy a wolf.