I am lost for words.
I have that feeling like the one you get at the end of an exam. Relieved, elated? Sure. But mainly dazed. I remember bringing home our baby daughter from the hospital and thinking ‘Now what do I do with you?’ I feel a little bit like that. Hello, book. Now what do I do with you?
It doesn’t seem real. My husband said it was as though I’d popped down to Kinkos and printed it myself, just for a laugh (I’d be pretty thrilled to create such a sensational cover all by myself). My cousin said it was weird to see “our funny old surname” on the cover. Darn right it is.
Do you suppose it is like a new haircut? I just have to keep staring at it? I keep doing double takes as it lies against the coffee table. I have to do the mental addition over and over – My name + book = my book…. oh yeeeaaahhhh, that’s right, My Book! You know how it is when you get a haircut and just can’t seem to stop fussing with it? I find myself doing that. Moving the book around. Picking it up, flicking to a page, putting it down again. Feeling thrilled. Feeling embarrassed. Making it lie square against the table. Stacking all the copies up together. Such strange behaviour.
Perhaps the oddest part is seeing my words, in such luscious, gorgeous type, flashing themselves about in a real book. My humble, Plain-Jane words went and got a makeover!
So maybe I don’t need to do anything. At least not just yet. Maybe all I need to think, for now, is: Hello, book. Lookin’ good.