First: Power's back on for supergal. Huzzah! They'll survive this power outtage madness after all!
Second: well, it's not like you can't see THIS coming : Mah Booook
*panting into a paper bag*
Seriously gang... it's available on Amazon. Like Right Now. The e-version mostly, but the paper version cometh, kids, and I'm not even barely kidding you when I find it both horrifying and exhillerating that copies are being purchased with REAL money by REAL people, right now this very second.
Cue the brain
Brain: what if they don't like it?
me: shaddap you. this is a big moment. don't piss on it.
Brain: but, you wrote it. You know?
me: and that means? Exactly?
Brain: well, it means, exactly, that it's probably not that good.
me: *sobbing quietly* Now that's not fair, brain. "good" is not something I'm in a position to judge right now anyway with all this adrenaline. We already know I'm no JK Rowboat, and I'm certainly not some sparkles-the-vampire novellist; I just wrote this on a dare so of course it's not the next great American Novel. It's just my great American Novel. And it's my first one. So people have to be nice.
me: don't they?
Brain: no. no they do not. And they have the internet to insulate them. You REALLY think you're going to get some "throw money at me now" kind of review that's going to put your book on anyone's maps for real?
me: well no. Not really. It'd be nice. But no. I know this is a small potatoes deal. It's been fun though, right?
Brain: It's all fun and games until someone barfs at the book signing.
me: oh shit. book signing.
Brain: and yeah, and you should read it aloud to people too.
me: oh shit. Public Speaking.
Brain: didn't think of that, did you?
Brain: so yeah. So what if they. Don't. Like. Your. Product?
me: um... 'scuze me while I go jam my thumbs in my ears and sing me a few bars of that "la la" song...
Here ends brain-ster-piece theater. I'm seriously loving this self publishing thing but at the same time I realize (with all the grace and dignity of a jello-salad on a speeding Yugo) that this is NOT a quit-your-dayjob kind of gig. I'm horrified at the thought that my most beloved friends, family and minions alike will get a sniff of this, read in a few pages, and roll their eyes clear up into the tops of their skulls and start thinking of nice things to tell me over the phone before politely changing the subject.
A good man told me today, however, that I'm not supposed to like being all exposed like this. But that the discomfort is supposed to make my next book better. I'm supposed to learn from this and get character built and crap. Dammit he's right. He's a good dad to his own kids, and now he's taken me under his wing and started telling me dad stuff out here. AND he's got extra swing because he's from Ethiopia and he has this disarming way of telling me to nut up without actually making me feel like a spoiled asshole.
In a final headline of this blog post, I should tell you that in a fit of cathartic exuberance, I'm going to join up with supergal tomorrow down in Washington DC for the fourth of July hooplah that will be abundant tomorrow. With luck, pictures will follow.
With more luck... I'll have something new to whinge about real soon.