Today I turn thirty-three years old. Eleven days ago my first book released. Here are some comparisons (first novel year minus birthday year, according to Wikipedia):
Stephanie Meyers 28
Anne Rice 35
John Steinbeck 27
China Mieville 26
Gabriel Garcia Marquez 35
Jane Austen 36
Those average to about 31.2, so I guess I was a little later than average, but still on a fine schedule if I can keep my workload up over the next few years.
This week, I wrote a speculative fiction story for an anthology. It had to be set in the 1920s, but include paranormal, science fiction, or horror elements. I went the sci fi route. I'm afraid it's lacking something -- a more dynamic meeting with the red herring, perhaps. A gun fight in an alley... I don't know, but as it is, I'm only 500 words from the limit on the anth, so I don't think I have much room to add anything.
I know I'm supposed to be starting back on Magpie, but that's going to wait until the New Year. I'd like to get a few more short stories out for anthologies next year. Maybe write one more before the end of the year. I'm also figuring that I should focuse more on literary fiction, so those anthology readers would buy my book. Sci fi fans may not want historic fiction, but people who read literary fiction would, possibly.