I had some disappointing news today. Initially my publisher was interested in having me write a sequel to MAJOR CRUSH, which is selling well. But they've decided they don't want me to do this until sales reach a certain level. In the meantime, they want the second book on my contract to use the basic plot of one alternative idea I sent them, combined with the setting of another.
I called my agent and whined. I called my critique partner and whined. I was depressed for about three seconds. And then I started writing.
Writing in general is a terrific activity for control freaks. But at least from my experience, I'd say being a control freak and having a happy publishing career do not mix. This is the bright side of banging my head against the wall for fifteen years before I finally got the call. If I'd been published in my early 20's, I'm not sure I would have had the ability to relinquish a little control and work with a publisher to fill their needs. As it is, I appreciate what I have, and I will NEVER take that call for granted.