Tomorrow is R-Day (AKA D-Day but it’s a Release, ergo R-Day).
I’m currently drowning my anxiety (who’s very persistent, btw) in bread, marmalade, and butter, waiting for my boys to be home so I’ll have a distraction to resent. And my nails have seen better days. My general state of cleanness too (but hey, between the interviews I have to write, the promo on FB and Twitter, my blog, and feeding those two guys I have home with me, shaving had been downgraded to I-don’t-really-care position) (which is grossly liberating).
It’s the first book I’m putting out completely by myself and boy, do I feel the heat. You see, the very first book was with a pub house. The following 3 with groups of amazing writers. There was always some peer-hand-holding when needed.
My computer tries to hold my hand, and it’s so not the same.
Also, it’s for the most personal story I’ve ever written, and I had no idea of that while I was writing.
All of this leads to an emotional mess–c’est moi.
So, I’m sorry for this out-of-the-blue post. I guess in a very odd way you, all the 195 people following this blog, are my people and I wanted to reach out and disclose the highest freak out in the book release history.
I’m sorry to barge into your Friday, too.
Thank you for staying with me.