The pace of the New Year is staggering. Between work and preparations for the book there doesn’t seem to be much time for anything else (although I am doing my best to squeeze in as much in as possible).
The 15-year-old me would be so pleased. I was so bored as a teenager, waiting for the excitement and opportunity that would come with age. When I had a place in the world. When I finally had friends.
I turn 40 in a month and am feeling good about it. When I look back things are pretty sweet. I have a kind partner who loves me and who I love. We live together in a spacious apartment with our docile cat. I have my health and a good close relationship with my parents. I have great friends. I have a job that I really like. My first book is about to come out… I feel blessed to be so busy. If you had told the 15-year-old me what he could expect 25 years later I’m sure he’d be beaming.
Last week was all about copyedits. I got the manuscript back from the copyeditor. There wasn’t much work to be done. After 14 years it’s pretty clean. But she did catch some important things: word misuse, some inconsistencies, missing commas. I even caught one or two things she missed. This stage is frightening. You want everything to be perfect, but you’ve read the text so many times you no longer see your mistakes.
I’m told that the manuscript goes off to the printer now. There will be one final revision once it comes back (as it will appear on the page). This should happen by mid-February I am told. And then the book will be out by the end of April (more time to plan the launch, thank God!).
I have many ideas for the launch, probably too many. Am I overthinking things? It’s in my nature to, I suppose. But I want it to be fun. Special. A celebration. God knows I have been to so many boring book launches. I want mine to be different, unique, memorable.