My new book just came out a little over two weeks ago. I'm tired. I'd honestly forgotten how weird the process is. It's only my third book, but maybe it's like that whole cliche about labor -- there's a sort of amnesia that takes over, because if you remembered how painful it was, you'd never do it again.
I think this may be true.
Here's the book:
(that's my cat, Ghost!)
I'm not sure how to describe the process of being published. It's both anticlimactic and overwhelming. Writing a novel and getting it ready for publication is a big, long and complicated project. And these days, an author's work isn't done when the book is turned in, the final proof pages approved. No. You write articles. Blog posts. Do interviews. Live events. I seem to be constantly driving up and down the California coast (another trip to Los Angeles and then the next week, Lake County, for some really fun events). I like doing all this stuff. I like talking to people. But somewhere in here, I'm also supposed to be writing another book, and it's hard to find the focus and emotional energy to do it all.
You publish a book, and somewhere inside, there's this expectation that you're going to get some big accolade and recognition for it. Reviews! Rewards! Sales! Or perhaps a cookie basket, or balloon bouquet.
Instead, what I got is a deadline for another book that I'm not quite sure how I'll manage. But I guess that's the reward, too. I get to write another book.