As I’m sure did many of you this weekend, I went to see some fireworks to celebrate the Fourth of July (one shot from last night’s spectacle pictured here, in fact). And, as is my wont, it got me thinking about books. (If you know me at all, this does not surprise you in the least. Just about anything can set me off on thinking about books. The right sized grapefruit, my dog trying to lick my crotch, a particular tv show…) My question to you is: are there fireworks in your works-in-progress?
I’m not just talking about literal fireworks, which would be very specific. Summer novels for USians, maybe, or books set in and around November 5th for the Brits, or over New Year’s Eve in some big cities… No, what I’m talking about is that BIG moment of ooohing and aaahing that fireworks can engender in us. That out-of-time moment when nothing else matters but sitting on the lawn, watching something happening that you have no control over.
I’m one of the few who can say it so far, but I think you’ll find a moment like that in The Last Little Blue Envelope, Maureen Johnson‘s eagerly awaited sequel to 13 Little Blue Envelopes, which comes out next summer.
Maybe it’s about holidays, and the things that are a tradition, or traditional to some, that we find a way to make our own.
Anyway, I’m curious to know what you think. Are there big fireworks moments in your novels? What do you think I mean by “fireworks moments” anyway? And how many bug bites did YOU get sitting out to watch the light show this weekend?