Yesterday, I send off the first query letter to an agent regarding my finished novel. Tomorrow is my brother’s birthday. And today is Book Day: the first print run of A LESSON IN MANNERS arrived on my doorstep. A satisfyingly heavy box, a fancifully romantic cover, a smooth, beautiful weight in the hands. I don’t know how to appropriately observe this moment. I’m a person who loves traditions, ceremonies, and rituals. It strikes me there ought to be rituals for this hugely ceremonious opening of my first book of fiction—this thing I’ve desired for years, come into being.
I’ll have to create one. Here are the elements I will observe: demand a big smooch from my husband, who has to put up with the hairy, unwashed state of me most of the time and gets to see this giddy, euphoric, overjoyed side of me only occasionally. Show my kids: mommy wrote a book. Text a picture of me holding the book to all my nearest and dearest. Pour a glass of wine. Have a celebratory dinner. Consider baking a cake.
As soon as the book is available for sale through the Press’s website, on Amazon, or through any other distributor, I’ll have a proper launch party. There will be more wine. There will be cake. There will be much rejoicing. But for now, I think I’m going to hug to my heart, dear and close, the deep, deep joy of seeing this dream realized.
