Aches and Resolutions

I don't believe in resolutions, not really. But it is seven days in to the new year and I'm lying in bed wrapped in quilts surrounded by tissues and teacups and I can't help thinking about the things I should be doing instead of being sick in bed, the things I must do this year, the things... you know.

So I have this book coming out. In less than two months. I'm sure there are things I should be doing. Can I come to your school? Can I read in your bookstore? Can you buy a copy? And, most importantly, can I get over this crippling fear of reading in public? It's time.

My head hurts.

All at once

I have a fever and swollen glands and that kind of aching back that says no, this will only get worse before it gets better. And I am wrapped in bblankets on one of those wintery nights before NYC landlords turn on the heat... and Im drinking tea. And it occurs to me.

I have ARCs. (translation: Advanced Reader's Copy). I have a BOOK of my book. It is this neat little size. It has a cover with my name on it. It's not copy-edited or anything. It is used for reviews (this part I have yet to process. shhhh) Its sort of mind blowing. And in the same week the UPS man delivered these books to my door, I was interviewed by the amazing ladies here... which was my first real writerly interview. And so, although I am drowning in sick now, last week was pretty real as far as this writer thing goes.

I know I should take a picture of it and post it here... me on a bench reading my own book, my own book tucked on a shelf among other *real* books. And I will, maybe, but much like the dialogue I wrote in the book that is sometimes hard to distinguish from the inner monologues of Nadio and Noelle, the reality of this whole thing is sort of hard to distinguish from imagination. So I'm going to leave the photo out of it for now...

Or maybe I'm just feverish and so. A little delirious