I asked for an extra day for a read-through, and to do a better job with the ending.
I wrote my editor a seven-page letter about this draft, about the story, about the journey we've been through, blah blah blah. I cut it to five. Then to three. Then to two. Much better.
I was so exhausted after this marathon, I had daughter Hannah read the letter for typos, she did, and then, Jim and Hannah hovered around me, making lunch, fidding with mail, making I'm suffering, too! Send it! noises, and finally, finally... I did.
Then there was pie.
It is a long-standing tradition in this household, that a book sale (or other magnificent book news) is celebrated with lemon meringue pie for breakfast. We had it for lunch. I hadn't even thought to buy it, but Hannah had. She had been a big part of getting this book off, and we were going to celebrate, by golly.
Both Jim and Hannah had taken turns sitting up with me on the two nights before deadline. It was an unspoken thing: I hadn't asked them to sit, and they hadn't told me they would... don't know if they even had considered it before they did. But, like those stories you hear about where people just slowly and quietly know what to do and do it, they gravitated to the fire, took turns, and just sat there, across the table from me, quietly. For hours. And I sat there in the pink armchair, sunk down into my story.
I wonder if I syphoned off some of their energy, as mine was flagging, sitting for so many hours, pushing to the end. I felt it, that's all I can say. I felt it. And I used it.
It is a long-standing tradition in this household, that a book sale (or other magnificent book news) is celebrated with lemon meringue pie for breakfast. We had it for lunch. I hadn't even thought to buy it, but Hannah had. She had been a big part of getting this book off, and we were going to celebrate, by golly.
Both Jim and Hannah had taken turns sitting up with me on the two nights before deadline. It was an unspoken thing: I hadn't asked them to sit, and they hadn't told me they would... don't know if they even had considered it before they did. But, like those stories you hear about where people just slowly and quietly know what to do and do it, they gravitated to the fire, took turns, and just sat there, across the table from me, quietly. For hours. And I sat there in the pink armchair, sunk down into my story.
I wonder if I syphoned off some of their energy, as mine was flagging, sitting for so many hours, pushing to the end. I felt it, that's all I can say. I felt it. And I used it.
I felt your energy, too. I can't tell you what your notes meant to me, how they boosted my morale and kept me at the page, telling me I could do it, it would be fine -- good, even.
I wish you all had been here for pie. I raised my plate and toasted you, I did.
And now I must toast my desk. It has been neglected for so long, and so much is overdue, and if I can only straighten it today and make some organizational piles, that will feel like a huge relief.
And now I must toast my desk. It has been neglected for so long, and so much is overdue, and if I can only straighten it today and make some organizational piles, that will feel like a huge relief.
It was a huge relief to hear from my editor yesterday -- and so enthusiastically! -- within minutes of sending him the whole shebang electronically (good editor). It was one year ago this week that we first starting working on this novel together. And now, here it is. Now, art and design and editorial and I will form a partnership, and make this book. Soon -- in a year? -- it will be a real book that I can hold in my hands.
And sometime soon, you will hold it in your hands, too. If you sent me a word of encouragement in this past year, will you please write me now and send me your address? You don't have to write a long note, just an address is fine -- I know who you are, and I will recognize you. I want to send you a galley when they are ready. I want to thank you. It will be a lot of galleys to send, but that's okay -- it was a lot of vibes I received. They went right into finishing this book. So... you're in there.
Now -- the desk. If I'm not back in three days, send help.
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