I've officially sold books this week, and some words come to mind:
Awe. Incredulous. Surreal.
Yes, I know- it's supposed to happen like that.
But when I just sit here and remember the chronology of this work, and the reality of actually sending this out there- I'm in a bit of shock. This whole event has been an odd bouncing between a Big Deal and It's Just What I Wrote, and I realize that it's not over; it's actually just beginning.
There haven't been any reviews yet (which will be the next traumatizing event, I'm sure!), but I know that there are copies of my book heading out into the world.
And that's amazing.
Amidst the chaos of the recent season came the package that I had actually entirely forgotten- the paperback version of my book. It has been a couple of days, and I have only just made the time to sit down and take a look at it this evening, just for a minute.
I've heard that actors don't necessarily watch the movies in which they have just participated, and I can commiserate; I've reviewed this work enough to say, "OK, whatever it is- it is done, and it's time for a rest." Now that I'm sitting here with a copy of the book in my lap, I'm still battling with the "Do I care what people think? I just needed to get this writing out of me," and the jury is still out.
On the other hand, I'm a little concerned that it's sloppy and not worth anyone's attention. I'm experiencing a series of, "Oh, I could have XX" and "Gee, I should have done XXX," which isn't doing anyone any good. I do love figuring things out on my own (and there was PLENTY of that!), but maybe if I had hired someone, things would turn out differently.
I may end up just sitting here in a funk, staring at the cover.
I'm both excited and, admittedly, slightly apprehensive about what the near future will bring for the book. I suppose, like everyone else, that I want to be accepted and be shown approval of my work; after all, it took a long time to create, and is an accurate depiction of "me" as I existed when I wrote the stories, and as I exist today.
Conversely- I didn't write this book for attention per se; I want people to pay attention to the content, but the purpose of writing, for me, is in no way to attempt to acquire fame (or notoriety as it may turn out). I wrote to elicit a response- a deeper and authentic response- to the content, because of what I have seen around me.
I see people dying- or barely living- every day, and it's maddening. It's such a waste of the gift of our lives to be scrambling, rushing, worrying, etc., and I'm trying to do something about it, in even my tiniest and insignificant way.
I'm hoping for the best, but anticipating the worst (and such an attitude will become clearer as you read through the book). Whatever happens- I've done what I set out to do, and hope that it will affect the world in a positive way.
I suppose I have to start someplace, and given that I'm a talker- it may as well be a blog post....
I wrote The Long, Slow Summer Sun because I had a few things that I needed to say, and I figured I'd organize my thoughts into something that I could publish. Doing this, of course, doesn't necessarily validate what I've written as being of value; that is what you must decide.
Now that the majority of the work is over, and I sit in front of my computer starting at this blank website, the thought, "Well, was it worth it?" inevitably enters my mind. And the answer?
A resounding YES.
I was brought up to think and write, and verbalize what I think, and never consider doing so to be a waste of time. No- I'm not necessarily one of those people who think that everything they have to say is worth saying...although- doesn't writing a book mean exactly that? Hmm.
At any rate: I'll be making plenty of stops to this blog (after all- it's a blog), and I hope you do, too.
I think that next up may be the explanation for the original title of the book, as I briefly mentioned in the book's introduction.