I don’t think writers do waiting very well.
My big day is finally here. I re-read my book last night. One writer I admire read a review copy last week. “I couldn’t put it down,” she said. So when I look at the book and feel vulnerable in a very absolute sort of way, I recall her words. They are comforting.
This morning is busy with final attentions to upcoming events. My April-July calendar pages look like somebody threw splotches of ink all over them. I am not neat with a calendar, and the date spaces aren’t big enough to hold the information neatly. Excuses are a writer’s dearest companion.
Tomorrow I will post a follow-up to my national book launch. If this were poetry, I could come close to telling you exactly how many books I will sign tonight.
But this nonfiction book is new ground for me. Although I’ve written many nonfiction articles, I’ve never written a book in that genre. How things will go is a complete tossup.