I've been on the road this week, living with slow wifi and a lot of mañana in the Land of Enchantment, so thinking about, let alone writing about, the actual business of writing hasn't exactly been front and center.
But this morning it kind of hit me: the surreal moment of looking at the Interlude Press online store and seeing some very familiar book cover art with a virtual price tag attached: Sotto Voce, $15.99.
In talking with some of the other IP authors, it's interesting to hear when the reality of it all hits home. For some, it's when they turn in their manuscripts. For others, it was dealing with edits. For many of them, I think it's when they first see the cover art.
For me, it was the book store moment, and that Publishers Weekly Review that still leaves me a little dumbfounded. Despite years of being published in newspapers, or having words I wrote echoed by an executive or a politician they were written for, this is the first time I've seen my name—or at least, my pen name—attached to something for sale.
It's an odd moment.
For anyone who publishes, it should be a moment of accomplishment, and of some pride—a helluva lot of work goes into publishing a novel. Yet not too much—there is the constant balancing act of being grounded and humble, of not celebrating too much. It's stranger still for someone in the business of PR, promotions, and marketing, because for the first time in my life, I am promoting myself, rather than an industry, an idea or someone else's product.
Something to worry about mañana, I suppose. For today, I have a proofread to finish reviewing and a winery to visit.