This past weekend, I did something that I haven’t done in a while. I sat down and reread one of my older works. Not because I was researching anything, or checking details for a sequel. Just… read it.
I re-read House of Sable Locks.
It’s a daunting thing to go back and read the second book you ever wrote, and realize that it’s possibly the best work you’ve ever done. That you’ve written twenty-four books since that one, and that none of them have reached the benchmark that led one outlet to call House of Sable Locks a modern erotic classic. (that outlet no longer exists — it was Cliterati, for the curious.)
Now, that’s not saying that the rest of my work is crap. It definitely isn’t! (House of Sable Locks isn’t my only award winner, after all.) But I think that they all are a step below that level. Well, maybe Hidden Things is closest. Or Written in Water. Or maybe not — House of Sable Locks was something truly special.
And it was my second book. That’s really kind of mind-blowing. You’re not supposed to front-load your writing career!
While I’m pondering this, I’m also working on book 26:
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