It always seems to me that book release day ought to be a bigger celebration than it is! Today is the day my new Amish romantic suspense, HOW SECRETS DIE, comes out, and it slips past like any other day, with laundry to do, supper to cook, a garden to tend, and a new chapter to finish. Where are the fireworks?!
Seriously, I suppose the actual birthday for a book, at least where the author is concerned, is the day we hit Send and shoot the completed manuscript off to our editors. That's the moment when our baby is launched on the world, so to speak, because someone other than us will see it. Will they ooh and aah over our triumph? Or will they be quick to point out that the baby's face is a bit red and it has no hair? We don't know yet, so for that moment, we can revel in the satisfaction of having completed yet another book.
I'm been writing for so long that I remember the days when I either used a carbon paper while typing the final draft or paid way too much to have it photocopied. When the book had to be done at least a week before its due date to allow for it to be mailed to New York. When the gremlins in the mail room actually lost your manuscript, and you only found out weeks later as the result of a plaintive phone call from your editor. Ah, yes, those were the good old days!
Seriously, though, I'm celebrating, all by myself. HOW SECRETS DIE is my 50th Harlequin release and my 60-something book. So lift a cyber glass of champagne with me and celebrate all the scribes out there who toil away in what must be the loneliest occupation on earth. Congratulations to all of you, and may your writing be swift and your ideas flow!