Thoughts During Naptime
My new book, The Vacationers, comes out in May. Because of the approaching holidays and our upcoming semester in Nashville, May sounds both like it’s TOMORROW and like it’s in a hundred years. Lately I’ve been thinking about how everything about this book is different than Laura Lamont’s Life in Pictures. The book itself, yes, but also the experience of writing it and of publishing it. The difference between my brain now and my brain then.
Most of this has to do with having a baby, of course. Caring for him has forced me (thank god) to spend less time thinking about myself, less time on social media, less time obsessing over who-is-winning-which-award-and-why-wasn’t-it-me. I know it sounds crazy to suggest that every self-obsessed writer should have a baby in order to get over themselves, but I swear, it works. I don’t have the hours to waste seeing if someone was talking shit about me on Twitter. My baby is infinitely more important, more interesting. (As far as I can tell, the only drawback to having a new baby is the lack in reading time. When o when will I actually crack open The Goldfinch?) (Though there has been a drastic uptick in the numbers of books read aloud on a daily basis: Click Clack Moo, Duck & Goose, Moo Baa La La La etc. Maybe the solution is to read the baby some Donna Tartt.)
I’m excited about the new book, which is decidedly more FUN than Laura, and I’m excited about the idea of promoting it, because it’ll mean plugging back into this wonderful world of booksellers and book freaks (a compliment) and readers and friends. Riverhead made me an amazing book jacket, which I will put up here as soon as I’m allowed.
The baby is stirring. He’s excited too.