I have a love-hate relationship with anticipation. I love it in theory. I hate it in practice.
When I was a kid, I wanted so much to be surprised by my Christmas and Hanukkah presents (we celebrated both). But every year, when my parents weren’t home, I’d sneak down to the basement, open the door to the weird little closet next to our second refrigerator, and unwrap and rewrap each gift to see what was coming. I couldn’t contain myself! The excitement was too much!
That’s how I feel about this here book. With three and a half months until lift off, the pre-pub activity is just getting started. It’s a low—almost undecipherable—hum in my life right now. My hope is that by January it will be at full volume, taking over my life.
That’s right. I have no idea what to expect but my dream is a life in which I don’t even have time to sleep because book publicity is around the clock. You been-there-done-that authors might be shaking your head, thinking I should be careful what I wish for, but since I still pretty much have no idea what a book launch entails, it all sounds totally fahbulous to me. And though I know it will never ever be as glamorous as I imagined as a kid, or as busy as I am clearing my schedule for, it’s still fun to daydream. Except when it makes me crazy.
Basically, the waiting, the wondering, is killing me.
My grandfather used to say not to wish your life away. I get it. Living in the now and all that zen stuff. And I know I shouldn’t watch the days on the calendar, anticipating January 10 and wishing it would just get here already, but that’s easier said than done.
It reminds me of when I was a kid and obsessed with summer camp. During the year, I would count down the days until the first day of camp. And as soon as I got there, my best friend and I would start counting the days we had left, sad we had to leave before the summer had even gotten started.
Now that I see those words on the screen, it’s really quite crazy and melodramatic, isn’t it?
But yeah. These days, the majority of my energy is spent anticipating January. And that’s a 98% exciting feeling. Book parties! (Most likely thrown by mom, but still!) Readings! Seeing my labor of love on the shelves! Yup, 98% exciting and only 2% torturous.
Like I said, it’s love-hate.
Basically, the whole thing is going to make me pee my pants with excitement. Or dread. Funny how they both make you pee.