It feels strange to see pictures of my book online when I haven’t held it in my hands yet!
The dear man was so apologetic. He overnighted my copy. But I knew I’d be working the next day and the scene I’d imagined so many times—you know, the one where the doorbell rings and the mail carrier lovingly hands you the manila envelope and you waltz around the kitchen with the thing before opening it to thundering applause from your family? Well, I knew that scene was beyond my grasp. Instead, I came home exhausted from a long day at work to find the manila envelope on the table where my husband left it when he got the mail.
There was no applause when I slit the crisp crease of the envelope (though I may have waltzed a little). But it made me so happy.
Many people compare birthing a book to birthing a baby, and there were times when it seemed this process did have a life of its own. There were times it seemed the thing was testing out its lungs, crying out until I cradled it a little while. And there was painful labor and a growing through it all. But the end product did not appear all at once, all wiggly and beautiful and whole. No, the birthing of this book has felt more like creating a painting—it evolved bit by bit, pieced together by shadow and light, born of an image in my mind.
I’ll tell you more about that story on the release date, which is October 7. But if you like? You can read more about the book here. Or here. You can pre-order it here. And my friend Christy (thank you, Christy!) has made some beautiful graphics to share (below). I’d love if you would. It’s Saturday, the first slow day to celebrate and I’m glad to invite you to this little party.
Because this art was made with you in mind.