Even though I've gone public in the sense that this website has gone up, I've actually only told a handful of people. Mostly family and, because "I had to," my superiors at work. Since so few people know about the book, this website is secreted somewhere in an obscure nook in cyberspace. I'll probably go public and proactively inform friends, colleagues, and acquaintances sometime next week. Truth is, my natural inclination is to actually wait until the day of publication and say something like: "hey, please buy my book, it's on sale now." But I can already see the disapproving look on my publicist's face as she somberly shakes her head. She wants build-up, she wants momentum before the release date. She wants news of it to break out now. Yesterday. She even set up - without my knowledge! - a Facebook fansite. What can I say? She's the perfect publicist.
Truth is, I'm chomping at the bit to let people know. I think this must be how expectant women feel just before they let the world know (at the 3 month mark?). I can imagine how they feel: elated, bristling with the anticipation of letting friends know, the sharing of joy, the joy of sharing. (And a chance to explain the extra poundage and perhaps gloominess from morning sickness).
I feel like that. Except I've been pregnant with this baby for a decade. It's been a baby that has kicked me hard at times, filled me with seasons of self-doubt and despair, only to be followed by seasons that percolated with creative energy. Then back to despair. Solitary nights slogging away in front of the monitor, days of frustration when whole chapters are trashed, the piles of rejections letters, the close calls that ended in 11th-hour rejections. And all finally leading up to that moment last year, when I received that magical phone call ("Hello, is Andrew there? I'd like to talk to you about your novel..."). And that's when the water broke.
And so when I make the announcement next week, it's going to be with a parent's pride and joy...