Feb
26

Mythical Parenthetical.

I am not sure whether it’s that my brain has been frizzled into a gray matter lardon or what, but I have been trying to post something here since Monday and failing, again and again.

Maybe it’s because I want to be able to write a straightforward FIN! HOORAY! DEADLINE VANQUISHED! sort of entry, but I am just not feeling it yet, and suspect I won’t be for another week, when the editing is complete. Right now I’m still terrified by the state of my manuscript, and fighting the urge to don a trenchcoat, scarf, and sunglasses before leaving the country entirely, leaving a trail of sweat and vomit in my wake. After I pressed ‘send’ Monday night, I surprised myself by bursting into tears. Some of that was probably just my emotional spit valve, releasing the stress that had been building for six months (and isn’t THAT a lovely metaphor!) but much of it was plain old sorrow that my book wasn’t ready and fear that it won’t be in time and that the best part about it will be the (oh so lovely) cover. And look at that, I’ve mentioned four distinct bodily fluids in one paragraph.

I shall defer my FIN! HOORAY! DEADLINE VANQUISHED! celebration for another day, but I do have something else to celebrate instead. Let’s call this the OMFG celebration, as it concerns the news that landed in my inbox this morning, the news that my book is officially available for pre-order on Amazon. Look over in the sidebar, if you don’t believe me (you have to look waaay down, because for some reason my sidebar is getting uppity with me when I try to edit it). My book has an ISBN and everything, and seeing the title in type other than my own is enough to make me believe that this will happen, my editing will be finished and my book will be a physical thing, with that delicious, familiar, book-y smell.
(Do they make air-freshener in New (or Old!) Book Smell? If not, they should. Someone get on that).

The best part of all is that after the book’s title on the Amazon page is my name, and after that, in parentheses, it says Author.
Hand to god, you guys. AUTHOR.

THIS is enough to make me believe in just about anything. Unicorns, a satisfactory outcome to the health care debacle, a race of helpful badgers inhabiting dressing rooms in order to offer scrupulously honest opinions upon your ass in those jeans: anything is possible. Butterfly in the skyyy, I can fly twice as hiiigh—I’ve got the world on a string, and it pulled me deliriously back here to tell you about it.

While I was busy working I kept this insane notebook full of things For After. Things to do, things to write about, pages and pages of notes and lists and reminders. Now, alas, I don’t know where to start, and am so sick of myself after six months of memoir-writing that I can’t imagine my thoughts about Aaron Sorkin’s weird Platonic fixation on male friendship, or my latest beauty discoveries, or my ANYTHING, being of the slightest interest to anyone.

A few months ago I signed up for formspring, and then realized that if I didn’t have time to wash my hair I certainly didn’t need another online writing venue, but now I think it will be a perfect way to ease back into this blogging thing after my long absence. You can ask me any question you like, and I will either answer on formspring or write about it here and leave a link to the post. Here is my formspring page.
(I reserve the right against self-incrimination, though I am unlikely to actually exercise said right.)

I missed you! I am so glad to be back!

By Alexa | Posted in Ceci N'est Pas Une Ecrivaine |