Breathless

I’ve spent the last two weeks running in circles, waving my arms, shouting and hyperventilating and making lists and making more lists and eating chocolate and crossing things off my lists and pulling my hair out and drinking wine and pacing around and muttering to myself. Not that any of this is all that unusual for me, but this time it’s all in the name of book promotion. No wonder agents always seem so tired and cranky.

Having read a disturbingly large number of accounts of writers who have self-published, then had to swallow the bitter pill of watching their books not do well or worse, just sit there unnoticed, I am working hard to keep mine in front of people. I’ve done everything but set copies on fire and chuck them at passing cars, and I may try that next. I don’t mind, really, it’s fun to come up with new and creative ways to tout my work.

So far, I’ve done a podcast (free on iTunes, click here to download), built a Pinterest page, created a “Christy Potter, Author” Facebook page and a new Twitter feed. I’ve gotten a great review from the independent writing website, The Well Written Woman, two five-star reviews on Amazon, a four-star review on Barnes & Noble, and a four-star rating on Goodreads. Three more independent book reviewers have it in their hands now.

I’ve also arranged a few book signings locally (e-mail me if you’re anywhere in the New York metro area and want details) and this afternoon (Friday, April 5) we’re having a major book launch party on Facebook and Twitter. Tomorrow’s parties are virtual, so feel free to join in for giveaways, ordering information (in both ebook and paperback format), contests, trivia and all kinds of fun party stuff. The best part about it being online is I don’t have to worry about anyone driving home after too much champagne, and no dishes to clean up.

Not bad for two weeks’ work, if I say so myself.

But here’s the thing.

Yesterday afternoon, all of the noise and the buzz and the excitement of recent days stopped… it just stopped… the moment that first box of books arrived on my doorstep. I can’t speak for other writers, but for me, it all came down to the moment I opened that box. I lifted the cardboard flap and all my childhood dreams, all my teenaged ambitions, all my years of writing and editing and rejection letters came rushing out to embrace me when I saw my name on that cover.

“Excited” doesn’t begin to cover it. “Blessed” comes a whole lot closer.