Wanna hear about my day yesterday, which inspired the title of this post?
Cool. Then, read on.
Mr B (that would be my man) happened to be at home. Our daughters school have run a weeklong event of ‘Bring Your Dad to School Day’, in aid of Father’s Day (which is this Sunday in the UK), and Mr B had booked the day off work to attend that.
So … when a delivery guy knocked the front door like he meant business, Mr B was home to eavesdrop from upstairs.
I answered the door, looked at the package, and my heart beat a little faster … because I hadn’t ordered anything … which meant it could only be one thing.
My author copies of Darkness & Light.
Mr Delivery Guy gave me his machine and told me to sign it, so I took his stick thingymajig and stood on my doorstep sniggering like something demented whilst scrawling across his screen. That he looked at me like he considered me slightly odd as I exchanged it for my prize bothered me not one iota.
From there, I waltzed up the stairs and waved my brown box at Mr B.
“What’s that?” he said.
::snigger:: “I think it’s my books.” ::snigger::
I sat on the bed next to him, and set about the arduous task of opening an impossible-to-open parcel.
Mr B showed immense restraint. Because I COULD NOT DO IT!
Though, whilst my brain was screaming ‘Open up already you Mother of Pearl Son of a Biscuit!’, only sounds along the lines of, “Eeerrrrnnnnhhhhhh, why won’t it opeeennnnnnnnn?” passed my lips.
Forty-five hours later (okay, okay, it was closer to seconds), the box surrendered to my tenacious tugs, and the golden glow of precious cargo beamed out at me.
I reached in, drew out a book. Stared at it. My book in my hands. Looked to Mr B.
When he held out his hand, I plopped it in there. He stared at it for a long minute before saying, “This one’s mine. Who’re the others for?”
It took me a good few words of gentle persuasion to get Mr B to unclaw his fingers from around my book, and once I had, I hopped down the stairs, grabbed the phone, and called my best friend.
After the ‘hello’s were out the way, I said, “My books have come.”
Silence followed. Not unexpected. I mean, I order a lot of books to read—could’ve been any books I was talking about, right?
Then the penny dropped. “You mean your books? Your books have come?”
::nod-like-a-jibber-jabber:: “Yep.” ::snigger::
“OH MY GOD!!!!! Wait there! I’m coming over! Wait there! I’m on my way!”
I have no idea where she thought I was going. ::stare::
Anyhoo, I paced the room, sending intermittent glances toward the front door, whispered inpatient ‘Come on’s beneath my breath.
The door knocked.
I pounced like a starved predator.
She raced inside. “Lemme see. I wanna see! Waaaannnnh!” (Okay, slight exaggeration in there, but I’m going for artistic license).
I showed her my book, and she took it like one would a new born baby (which it is—to me!).
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
::snigger:: “I know, right?”
She then proceeded to take photographs of my book in her hand, of her name in the acknowledgements (because she earned a very deserving mention), and then took ‘The Most Embarrassing Picture Ever!’ of me holding my book before my excitement had even had a chance to disappear.
Um … yeah … moving swiftly onward.
The book (the copy I have claimed as ‘Ours’) has already begun its search of admirers who want to stroke it. Last night, Mr B visited his friend’s tattoo parlour. “I need to take the book to show the guys!” Off it went.
This morning, I had the school run and shopping to do. I showed it to the mums I talk to on the playground. And then, when I got to the supermarket, I just happened to be served by a woman I know.
I thrust the book under her nose. “Wanna see?”
::startled-yet-comprehending-stare:: “This is your book?”
“Un-hunh,” I mumbled.
She then proceeded to tell the checkout lady behind her, and gave her the book to check it out (who was impressed), and passed it to the checkout lady on the other side (who read the blurb and asked lots of questions about it, which I answered with vigour—or like someone deranged). And any and all customers within earshot got a peek at our excitement.
How about you? How did you feel when you first held a book with your name on? How did you feel when you got accepted for your first publication? Or, if you’re working toward it, how do you think you’ll react: calm and collected … or not so (like me)?