In one week, on March 3, my second novel will be published. The books are finished and printed. My book tour plans are healthy and still growing. I’ve selected a few sections to read at events and practiced them. I’ve thought about the questions I’m likely to hear during radio interviews and event Q&A’s. I’ve figured out a couple of as-dressy-as-I-ever-get outfits to wear at readings.
This week, I’ll be working hard to promote the book, submitting essays, sending out emails and postcards about events, and contacting people who might be interested in the book. But as I remember from the last days of pregnancies, many years ago, I will live in a peculiar limbo of anticipation and excitement and worry and hope. Will this baby come easily? Will she thrive? Who will she turn out to be in the world?
Publishing a novel brings as many unknowns as birthing a baby.
In addition, when you publish with a small press you understand that there are likely to be fewer resources - financial and personnel - to promote your book. You know that will be balanced by the passion that small presses bring to the books they publish, by their energy and enthusiasm. You know also that you will rely on the generosity of friends and strangers in your community of writers and readers.
In this odd limbo before pub date, I’m so grateful for that generosity. I’m grateful to Kate and Mark and the staff at Red Hen Press for their amazing dedication. To my publicist Mary Bisbee-Beek, who answers my emails even when I might step just a little over the off-the-wall-with-stress line. To my buddies at the Odyssey Bookshop, for support and helping me launch this baby. And for all those people – you know who you are – who have offered to read advance copies and write blurbs and reviews, to host house parties and invite their friends, to invite me to their book groups and their neighborhood bookstores. Who will buy an extra copy and put it into a friend’s hand, saying, “you’re going to love this book.”
Thank you.
This week, I’ll be working hard to promote the book, submitting essays, sending out emails and postcards about events, and contacting people who might be interested in the book. But as I remember from the last days of pregnancies, many years ago, I will live in a peculiar limbo of anticipation and excitement and worry and hope. Will this baby come easily? Will she thrive? Who will she turn out to be in the world?
Publishing a novel brings as many unknowns as birthing a baby.
In addition, when you publish with a small press you understand that there are likely to be fewer resources - financial and personnel - to promote your book. You know that will be balanced by the passion that small presses bring to the books they publish, by their energy and enthusiasm. You know also that you will rely on the generosity of friends and strangers in your community of writers and readers.
In this odd limbo before pub date, I’m so grateful for that generosity. I’m grateful to Kate and Mark and the staff at Red Hen Press for their amazing dedication. To my publicist Mary Bisbee-Beek, who answers my emails even when I might step just a little over the off-the-wall-with-stress line. To my buddies at the Odyssey Bookshop, for support and helping me launch this baby. And for all those people – you know who you are – who have offered to read advance copies and write blurbs and reviews, to host house parties and invite their friends, to invite me to their book groups and their neighborhood bookstores. Who will buy an extra copy and put it into a friend’s hand, saying, “you’re going to love this book.”
Thank you.