I’ve never felt suited to do much of anything other than writing. I’ll save the essay about why it’s taken me so long to find any sort of success for another time and another forum but, suffice to say, my whole life has been lived in anticipation of being where I am now. However well Wilderness does in the marketplace when it’s released next month, the last year of getting it finally, truly ready for publication—from offer to contract to line edits and galleys and every other thing that goes along with getting a book out. The only problem has been, other than some very nice advanced reading copies, there’s been no book to show off. Luckily, as of last night, that all changed.
Last night about 8:30—late for a delivery—my book was delivered to me and the last year and all the years that came before it were suddenly boiled-down into a tangible thing that I had made and could now hold in my hands.
It felt pretty good.