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Something Precious Came in the Mail Yesterday
I knew I had ordered it a couple of weeks ago, but somewhere in the chaos of things going on, I’d forgotten about it — kind of. So I was a little floored when I got the package in the mail today. I wasn’t instantly sure of what it was.
Shaunta thought maybe someone had bought a book from my wish list. The package was certainly the right size. And she was right, in a way. It definitely was a book, but much more important than something from my wish list.
My first book.
My pride, my joy, my albatross. The thing that has consumed my waking mind for most of the last eight years. The thing turned my blood and my restlessness and my grief into some of the nicest rejection letters you’ll ever read. The closest thing I will ever have to a firstborn child. And it was finally in a tangible form.
Not just tangible, in the sense of having it printed. I’ve printed out pages plenty of times before, and that was definitely something. But this is the first time I’ve actually seen it . . . as a book. 6 x 9, single-spaced double-sided pages, set in beautiful Book Antiqua because Times New Roman makes me want to gouge my eyes out.
