It is my job to describe things. Occurrences, emotions, scenes, feelings. I ought to be able to tell you all about Word on the Street on Sunday, to take you inside my own head and show you how it felt to hold Fallsy Downsies in my hands and read from it to a packed tent, overflowing with attentive people who wanted to hear more-more-more of my story.
It’s my job to be able to make you feel what I felt.
I am sucking at that job right now. Partially because I cannot even name to myself what I felt. Pure joy. A sense of rightness. A frisson of nerves, but only a frisson.
It took so long to get here, and then it passed like that, and I am on the other side of it trying to hold onto it for a moment longer, long enough to figure it out, to name it, maybe to bottle it so that I can dab it on my wrists when times get tough, when I eventually get back in the weeds with some other project.
The book is out, it’s here, people bought it on Sunday and some of them are reading it RIGHT NOW. You can go get it, at the King’s Co-op Bookstore and you should probably go there anyway, because it’s a great little bookstore with everything you need.
I’ve been interviewed by a number of thoughtful, intelligent, funny interviewers and I can’t wait to see what they have to say about me and my book. I’ll post links here as they arrive.
Meantime, I’m preparing for my official launch party at the Carleton October 23, and trying to nail down some dates in southern Ontario for late November early December. I’ll keep you posted on that too.
And I’ll work on getting my feet to touch the ground again. But I won’t work too hard at it. This floatiness is kind of great. I just wish I could describe it to you.