Sixteen-year-old Frankie Budge—aspiring writer, indifferent student, offbeat loner—is determined to make it through yet another sad summer in Coalfield, Tennessee, when she meets Zeke, a talented artist who is as lonely and awkward as she is.

As romantic and creative sparks begin to fly, Frankie and Zeke make an unsigned poster that becomes unforgettable to anyone who sees it. Copies of their work are everywhere in town, and rumours start to fly about who might be behind the ubiquitous posters: Satanists? Kidnappers? Soon, the mystery has dangerous repercussions that spread further afield, and the art that brought Frankie and Zeke together now threatens to tear them apart.

Twenty years later, Frances Eleanor Budge—famous author, mother to a wonderful daughter, wife to a loving husband—gets a call that threatens to upend everything: a journalist asks if Frances might know something about the Coalfield Panic of 1996. Could Frances' past destroy the life she has so carefully built?

A bold coming-of-age story, written with Kevin Wilson's trademark wit and blazing prose, Now Is Not the Time to Panic is a nuanced exploration of young love, identity and the power of art. It's also about the secrets that haunt us—and, ultimately, what the truth will set free.

Kevin Wilson is the author of the New York Times bestseller Nothing to See Here, as well as the novels The Family Fang and Perfect Little World, and the short-story collections Tunneling to the Center of the Earth and Baby You're Gonna Be Mine. He lives with his family in Sewanee, Tennessee, where he is an associate professor in the English department at Sewanee: The University of the South.

'Good Lord, I can't believe how good this book is...Wilson writes with such a light touch that it seems fairly impossible for the book to have a big emotional payoff. But there is, and that's the brilliance of the novel—that it distracts you with these weirdo characters and mesmerizing and funny sentences and then hits you in a way you didn't see coming. You're laughing so hard you don't even realize that you've suddenly caught fire.' New York Times on Nothing to See Here