Today is exactly one month away from the release date of Positively Beautiful. It’s been two years this week since my most-awesomest-in-the-world agent Sarah Davies closed the deal with Caroline Abbey at Bloomsbury Books for Positively Beautiful, and I can’t believe that all the work and anticipation is almost over.
Uhhh… Let me re-phrase that. The anticipation is almost over (March 3rd, GET HERE), but the hard work is nowhere close to being done. The promotion machine that has been chugging along is shifting into high gear, and I’m only hoping I can hold on.
**picture Wendy, hanging onto a railing as feet and hair blow, a look of pure panic on her face**
It’s always struck me what a dichotomy an author’s life is. One the one hand, we are introverts, because how else can we hole up in an office all by ourselves for months on end, with only the voices of our characters to keep us company? (Okay, when I say it like that, it sounds like authors as a group are one step away from the loony bin…) But on the other hand, when it comes time to promote, we are expected to put on grown-up clothes and get out there and meet and greet with the best of them. It’s sometimes hard to switch gears, but while I still would be writing if I was stuck in a Chinese prison with no hope of parole or publication, in the end I write because I want to share the stories running rampant through my head. I realize that not everybody is going to like my books. I mean, I don’t like every book I read, so why should I expect people to universally love my books?
** picture Wendy, little blond girl sitting alone on the playground with a thought bubble above her head: “Why don’t you LIKE me?”**
But when you make a connection with a reader, and they tell you that your book made them laugh, or cry, or think—well, that’s the stuff that makes you want to drink champagne and howl at the moon. (Again, not helping the author image AT ALL). Writing a book and watching it come to publication is in some ways like having a baby. You strive, you worry, you do your very best, but in the end, all you can do is sit back and watch your baby fly—or crash and burn.
When I got back from vacation, my editor Mary Kate Castellani (yes, a new editor. Long story short, I was orphaned, I was adopted, and the awesome Mary Kate has taken me to raise) had sent me the final copy of Positively Beautiful. When I held it in my hands, it was very quiet in my head.
I only have one month to go until it’s time to show it to the world.
It is thrilling, it is scary, and it is freaking awesome.
Uhhh… Let me re-phrase that. The anticipation is almost over (March 3rd, GET HERE), but the hard work is nowhere close to being done. The promotion machine that has been chugging along is shifting into high gear, and I’m only hoping I can hold on.
**picture Wendy, hanging onto a railing as feet and hair blow, a look of pure panic on her face**
It’s always struck me what a dichotomy an author’s life is. One the one hand, we are introverts, because how else can we hole up in an office all by ourselves for months on end, with only the voices of our characters to keep us company? (Okay, when I say it like that, it sounds like authors as a group are one step away from the loony bin…) But on the other hand, when it comes time to promote, we are expected to put on grown-up clothes and get out there and meet and greet with the best of them. It’s sometimes hard to switch gears, but while I still would be writing if I was stuck in a Chinese prison with no hope of parole or publication, in the end I write because I want to share the stories running rampant through my head. I realize that not everybody is going to like my books. I mean, I don’t like every book I read, so why should I expect people to universally love my books?
** picture Wendy, little blond girl sitting alone on the playground with a thought bubble above her head: “Why don’t you LIKE me?”**
But when you make a connection with a reader, and they tell you that your book made them laugh, or cry, or think—well, that’s the stuff that makes you want to drink champagne and howl at the moon. (Again, not helping the author image AT ALL). Writing a book and watching it come to publication is in some ways like having a baby. You strive, you worry, you do your very best, but in the end, all you can do is sit back and watch your baby fly—or crash and burn.
When I got back from vacation, my editor Mary Kate Castellani (yes, a new editor. Long story short, I was orphaned, I was adopted, and the awesome Mary Kate has taken me to raise) had sent me the final copy of Positively Beautiful. When I held it in my hands, it was very quiet in my head.
I only have one month to go until it’s time to show it to the world.
It is thrilling, it is scary, and it is freaking awesome.
RSS Feed