Tuesday came and went and I must say, the distractions of everyday life, which may have covertly acted to distract an otherwise pinnacle moment of my life, almost prevented me from noticing that Into the Everything was finally released.
That isn't to say I was unaware that my book would be published, nor that it was now possible that this important venture could potentially make it into the hands of dear readers, just that, well, it was quiet. Like all thunderstorms, the ensuing calm is somehow more silent.
But here it is, born to the world. And I'm a proud papa. Amy, my publisher, presented me with the cute slim volume in baby blue and purple pastels, with my mug on the back, and inside, were words words words that I uttered a ways back. They live between covers and give me a sort of nostalgic and ethereal joy. In my bedroom, 50 copies tower like sentries, waiting to be exposed.
I don't know if this is the beginning of my writing career or the only glimmer of it, but I do know that as of right now, a part of me has been donated to a part of the world. And that, my friends, tickles.