Oh Christ Will I Never Get The Hang Of Titles?

Thank you for the kind thoughts about Callisto. It has been a rough couple of weeks – days when I miss her so much it hurts, and then the confusing days where I am glad I no longer have to fret over her.

There are all these resources on grieving a pet, and I have read them all, I read them when I realized Callie was getting old. But they don’t sink in until you actually experience the loss you are preparing for, and even then they don’t help much.

Nothing does, but time. After everything that’s ever happened at me in life, you would think that lessonĀ definitely would have sunk in, but no. I’m just freshly reminded of it, and I sigh and resign myself to it.

So I have spent the last two weeks eating what I can heat up in the microwave and going to bed early with a book I have read before. I know these signs – I know where this can lead. Where it has led many times this last year. All I can do is ride it out, although at least this time I am remembering to take the trash out. Although I admit, it stacked up a little when I was snowed in. Which is pathetic – to say I was snowed in, when not a lot of snow fell. But living upstairs, you get six inches of snow piled up on your slippery stone steps, that’s snowed in, I guess.

Even so. I am getting the trash out, the dishes washed, the clothes through the laundry, and I’m still in the edit cycle of publishing a book, so…accomplishments?

I take what I can get.

My book has gone through copyedits, and I have gone through the book and said yeah or not so much on that part, and sent it back. It’s due back to me again this week following proofreading, after which I have a week to get it back to the publisher. And I hear rumblings about cover art, so, wow. This is happening, it is really happening.

(I say that a lot, but you have to understand how much I never quite believed I would finish writing a book, let alone find someone who wants to publish it)

This weekend I get to spend quality time with an at-home tooth whitening system before putting on my face – which means I have to actually find my makeup, hmm, best of luck to me then – and getting acquainted with my little Canon’s timer function again. Ah, author photos. The glamour. Part of me wants to submit one of me in the act of dental hygiene. Part of me is a brat.

I will behave, and I will look as pretty as I can.

I will not make a silly face.

I really am very much looking forward to talking about my book. Actually talking about it – showing you artwork and discussing characters and all. Soon, I think.

I’m going to be at the Romantic Times convention in May. Signing “Coming Soon” announcements. Now, that is surreal. I giggle uncontrollably to think about it, I’m not kidding. My inner nine year old who just discovered writing is freaking out – although I expect that’s largely in part because my inner nine year old never expected to be writing romance novels. My inner nine year old still thinks boys (and maybe also girls) have cooties.

This is surely an experience, all happening in the space of a very eventful year, and all I can really do is go with the whole of it.

This entry was posted in heartache, I Wrote A Damn Book Holy Crap, The Depression Monster. Bookmark the permalink.