How cool is this? I not only have a guest blogger, I have agent/writer guest blogger Lucienne Diver. MY agent. Yes, that’s right. Mine, mine, MINE. But I’m delighted to share, so without further ado… PS Wait…more ado mixed with gloat…I pre-ordered this book on my Nook, and the other day it automatically downloaded and it was SO COOL.
The publication of a new novel feels something like having the flu. Seriously! Think about it:
The chills: icy fingers of fear running up your spine. Will they like me? Hate me? Hate my characters? My plot? My conflict and resolution? I’m doomed!
The fever: the blush of praise in a positive review. The flush of exhilaration when you get to post a quote calling you “brilliant” or “hilarious” or even just “readable.”
The nausea: the stomach churning anticipation when you inquire about your print run or sell-through or any number of details.
The bathrobe: because, let’s face it, by the time the book is out and we’ve written our seventy zillionth guest blog, we’re lucky we made it into the bathrobe. We’ve certainly not gotten as far as a shower and actual grooming.
The tissues: those afore-mentioned reviews? It’s a guarantee at least one will suggest that your book is a waste of the paper it’s printed on (luckily, my new one starts out in digital – ha!). Whether the reviewer’s taste differs from what you have to offer or there’s an element that maybe didn’t go down as smoothly as intended or insert reason here, almost nothing is universally loved. Not even chocolate. Yeah, I can’t believe it either.
That achy feeling: my chiropractor calls it “writer’s back.” We spend so much time bent over notebooks, hunched over keyboards or simply squinting at tiny type that aches and pains just sort of go with the territory. Stretching is a must. Regular adjustments or massages…yes please! With sugar on top.
The lethargy: after the insanity of your launch month, where you’re frantic to do everything you can to get the right sort of attention, all you want to do is sleep for a week…or six. I’m not judging.
Prescription: ride it out.
Yeah, sadly, there’s just no miracle cure for the publication panic. I advise lots of fluids, a gross of scrunchies, maybe some decent fuzzy slippers to go with that bathrobe and protect your toes from stubbing when you do the inevitable lack-of-sleep shuffle, and a very understanding significant other.
Dr. Diver, signing off.