Just Crazy Enough
I had heard, before Harper Collins published my book, that many writers obsessively check their book's ranking on Amazon.com or through other outlets. Mine debuted a week ago and I have yet to take a single peek.
Am I paranoid, disinterested or too insanely competitive to even look? No, I'm just the same person who walked my 5 year old to her first bus ride to kindergarten, anxiously holding her hand. I watched a huge bus swallow her little form, snap shut it's door and disappear down the winding road.
I trudged home holding my 2 year old's chubby hand, spending the day doing whatever chores and games the day required. I thought about my kindergartner but I didn't worry. She was a tough, smart kid.
When she came home I let her unravel the story of her day. I went to information night and signed up to volunteer after my daughter had made her first friend. When I showed up in the classroom my daughter ran up and said "hi," before returning to her blocks or letters or paint. This was her gig. I was a footnote.
Oddly enough, that's the way I feel about my book. If people love it, fabulous. But I already do. That time, care and love is already inside my book's pages. If people respond, it's because the book or story or characters hit a chord inside that person that already existed before they read the first page. Furthermore, people's tastes change dramatically from day to day, year to year. It's completely beyond my control.
After I put Adventures with Max and Louise on the bus, (feels like dog years, it's been so busy,) I went home to struggle with a rough draft of a book called Divine Moves. It's a complicated, ornery, hopefully funny book that is about 80 pages too long. My beloved and faithful first readers are helping me decide where to prune, sculpt and shape Divine... into something I can share with the world.
And when it goes on sale, I'll have another one waiting for me at home so I won't be tempted to spy on my own book. If I ever started, I feel like it would drive me crazy. And I'm already just crazy enough. Ask my friends.
Am I paranoid, disinterested or too insanely competitive to even look? No, I'm just the same person who walked my 5 year old to her first bus ride to kindergarten, anxiously holding her hand. I watched a huge bus swallow her little form, snap shut it's door and disappear down the winding road.
I trudged home holding my 2 year old's chubby hand, spending the day doing whatever chores and games the day required. I thought about my kindergartner but I didn't worry. She was a tough, smart kid.
When she came home I let her unravel the story of her day. I went to information night and signed up to volunteer after my daughter had made her first friend. When I showed up in the classroom my daughter ran up and said "hi," before returning to her blocks or letters or paint. This was her gig. I was a footnote.
Oddly enough, that's the way I feel about my book. If people love it, fabulous. But I already do. That time, care and love is already inside my book's pages. If people respond, it's because the book or story or characters hit a chord inside that person that already existed before they read the first page. Furthermore, people's tastes change dramatically from day to day, year to year. It's completely beyond my control.
After I put Adventures with Max and Louise on the bus, (feels like dog years, it's been so busy,) I went home to struggle with a rough draft of a book called Divine Moves. It's a complicated, ornery, hopefully funny book that is about 80 pages too long. My beloved and faithful first readers are helping me decide where to prune, sculpt and shape Divine... into something I can share with the world.
And when it goes on sale, I'll have another one waiting for me at home so I won't be tempted to spy on my own book. If I ever started, I feel like it would drive me crazy. And I'm already just crazy enough. Ask my friends.
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Lisa wrote: "Wonderful piece, and a wonderful metaphor for living a fully engaged and healthy life as an author, a mother and dynamic person. Thanks for this!"
Thanks Lisa. I hate to compare books to children but the metaphor is nearly unavoidable. Thanks for reading! So appreciate it.
Thanks for this!