A New Writing Season

This week Delacorte editor Françoise Bui told me that a copy editor's working on Secret Keeper (Random House, Spring 2009), the flap copy and author bio are good to go, and she's sending me cover art soon.

I've got one more revision of The Bamboo People due to Charlesbridge, but that feels more than manageable.

And agent Laura Rennert called to chat about future projects.

After almost three years of writing under contract, I'm free! Picture me on the Austrian Alps -- wait scratch that, the Himalayan foothills -- singing and whirling with arms akimbo.

My goal for the next three years? Hone the craft, sweetheart, and no signing on a dotted line before that first draft is finished.

Proof That My Agent Is Bubblin'

The Andrea Brown Literary Agency has launched a new site, proving that not only is my agent Laura Rennert beautiful, she gives good advice to writers, and is quite successful at negotiating advances in the "mid-fives" to "mid-sixes" range. (Note: lest you start imagining fat advance checks made out to "Mitali Perkins," remember that the advance listed for me is amortized over the three years it is taking to write, edit, and publish that two-book series ... Oh, well. At least I'm in good -- albeit more lucrative for Laura -- literary company when it comes to her client list.) Confused about the title of this post? See item #9 on this list to clarify.

It Isn't Drivel After All!

Just heard from my agent that she's halfway through Asha Means Hope and that she loves it. Whew! That's encouragement to me as I'm trying to produce 3000-4000 words on Sparrow's story every writing day. I am planning a spa-like December of serenity to reward myself for this autumn's intensity. But do I want a different vocation? Not on your life. After years of rejections, I'm not complaining about having to fulfill contracts and submit manuscripts to waiting editors. If only I can make it to December 1 without bleeding, chewed-up cuticles. The nails are gone now, I had to quit gum because my jaw kept popping out of socket, and conseqently, the oral fixation that accompanies hard work needs to find a new source. Anyboy want to suggest a healthier option than chomping on my own skin?

My Baby's Off To California! Hooray!

The completed first draft of Asha Means Hope was 199 pages long, and of course my printer ran out of ink after spitting out page 195. Trotted off to Staples, made a copy for myself to read (later, much later), bought the ink cartridge, printed the last four pages, and mailed the manuscript to Laura Rennert, my agent. "Free! I'm free at last," I wanted to shout, falling on my knees, but it wouldn't be true. I have to begin working on Sparrow's story immediately (as in three months ago) which, however, will be fun and light, nothing like Asha's emotional journey. Goodbye for now, Asha my love. Peace be with you till Round Two.