The mailman came up the stairs today with a package in his hand.
Inside the package was this:
It never stops being exciting when you see -- after months, and in some cases even YEARS of editing -- a real, actual BOOK. Something you can hold in your hand. Even though your nails are broken and all dirty and whatnot from gardening.
"What's that?" asked The Bun.
"A book," I said. Then, "I wrote it."
"You DID?" he said. "FOR REAL?"
"Yes," I said. "I did."
"Wow," he said. "That's really great."
And it feels that way, finally. It feels really great. And also, surreal. There is something so bizarre about reading something you wrote in a REAL BOOK format. Sometimes I get to reading and it feels like someone else's words, prettily laid out on the page. "Did I really really write this?" I think.
And then I say, "Yes." Yes, I did.
I squee.* SQUEE!
I have access to more and more and MORE and more ARCs of WHAT IS REAL. If you're a book blogger or reviewer and you'd like to have one, please email me at karen at karenrivers dot com. I'd love to send you one! Or, as the case may be, get the most awesome Leslie to send you one.
* You're allowed one "squee" when you first hold your book in your hand. That's a rule! I didn't make it up. I mean, I did. But it's still a rule.