My editor’s assistant called today and said she was overnighting a package to me: the first official copy of my new memoir, Thirty Days with My Father: Finding Peace from Wartime PTSD. I have seven days to proofread and return the marked copy of the book to her. This will be at least the fifteenth edit (no kidding) of my book, and likely the final one. My editor’s assistant says we’re still on for a November 1 publication, and they plan to print 25,000 copies as a first print run.
I wonder how I’ll feel tomorrow when I hold the actual book in my hands. In my mind, my “book” is still a 2-inch thick, 269-page manuscript printed on copy paper and bound together with a rubber band.
Writers often compare pregnancy and childbirth to the conception and publication of a book. As cliche’ as it sounds, tomorrow I will hold my “baby” for the first time. And tonight I will lie awake wondering–and dreaming–about how my life will change after this.