This entry will be more of a status update than anything else, as I'm trying to give my friends and family a respite from the relentless shilling they've endured for the last few weeks. I did have my first reading/signing last Friday, the direct result of which is Lightfall was the number one selling book at Orca for the week. That's at least the second time a Fear Nought book has led the pack there, so it's great that Orca's hospitality has been rewarded. Thanks again to Jon Evetts, the entire Orca staff, and everyone who came out for our first End of the World event. Thanks also to folks who bought, not just Lightfall, but other titles as well. That keeps us on Orca's happy valentine list, which benefits authors and readers going forward.
So what was it like, right? That's the question of the week. How does it feel to know one's dreams are coming true? After 6:15 p.m. or so, when it became obvious the room would fill up and books would be signed and sold, it felt fantastic--I think. I'm actually looking forward to watching video of the event, because I remember it mostly as a jump-cut blur. Prior to that, I remember nausea, severe nausea. Five minutes before the event began, I was convinced I was about to spew a Technicolor yawn in the Orca Books parking lot. This would not have been a promising debut for an author.
Why was I so scared? Imagine you're a man pacing in the waiting room. (Apparently it's the 1950s, as you're not in the waiting room pretending you're part of the process.) Somewhere down the hall, something wonderful is happening in your life. At least, that's what you hope. Something horrible could be happening, too, just as easily. And while you're certainly ecstatic about your blessed arrival, you're also well aware your life is about to change in ways you can't see coming. Further, even if the first few months are good, something unspeakably awful might happen down the road. This moment of bliss may not be followed by lasting success. My book may very well die on the vine. I hate to be negative, but these are the facts. Few debut novels are hits, no matter what you may have heard about Twilight or Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. At this point, it's almost completely out of my hands, primarily in yours. So yeah, I'm scared. I really want to be a writer for a living, or at the very least I want to make enough to supplement my pitiful adjunct salary so I can marry my beautiful, brilliant girlfriend. I'll work my ass off to sell this book--and trust me, I'm not a born salesman, so it's tough--but my work on the project effectively ended nine months ago. It's tense here in the waiting room, my friends. I'll enjoy it in weird bursts for months and years to come.
There will be other signings, of course: Olympic College Bookstore at 3:00 p.m. December 1 in Bremerton, Mud Bay Coffee Company at 3:00 December 5 in Olympia, Sage Bookstore at 1:00 December 12 in Shelton, and a whirlwind tour of Oklahoma in March 2010. I'll be more relaxed at those, I think, though they won't all be as well attended as Orca Books. Maybe I'll meet you at one, though, so you'd better believe they're worth doing.
Next question: How tired was your signing hand? It wasn't bad. Ask me again if and when I sign hundreds at a throw! I'll try to keep you up-to-date as the business end of writing becomes a bigger and bigger part of my life. As I went through this process, I discovered the "how to write a novel" books tell us little to nothing about what's going to happen and how to be ready for it all. Maybe this can be my way of helping other writers step through the door.
The best thing about last week was the moment (I think it happened sometime Sunday) when I realized I now have a legacy in this world, no matter how small or bizarre it may be. As Neil Lynn Wise says, Non omnis moriar: "A part of me will never die." It's a quiet satisfaction...almost invisible. I haven't danced for joy. My mom believes I'm sulking through the biggest event of my life. But I have to say, this feeling--the realization that I'm leaving a gift to my planet, a book no one else could possibly write--is one I'll take with me till the day I die.
Now back to selling...and before long, the frantic, delirious, torturous, tortuous process of writing another book.