I’ve Finally Gone and Done It

I’ve published my book! Please bear with me for this commercial blog post. I’ll return you to your regularly scheduled program of travel stories and philosophical musings next week. But for now – I PUBLISHED A BOOK!

I’ve written a lot about the process of starting, revising and finishing a book, so I won’t repeat myself here, but I will say: there was something mind-blowing about holding my own printed book and realizing that the whole thing, from the glimmer of an idea to the final product – an actual book – came from my efforts.

I had a launch party this past weekend. I’m told it was a success. For me it was a blur of accepting well-wishes, watching people buy my book (swoon!) and writing my signature over and over. I’m told I had fun, though. I know for sure I enjoyed the cake when I finally had a piece.

I also did a reading. For those who were unable to attend, here’s what I read. I hope it makes you want to buy my book. And, if you read it, and like it, I hope you’ll write a review on Amazon, rate it on Goodreads, and/or tell a friend about it. Word of mouth is the indie author’s lifeblood.

Now for the reading. This first excerpt is from the prologue:
“John didn’t remember his mommy, but his Grammy had a lot of pictures of her . . . He asked Grammy about the ones where she wore a big funny hat. It was like a square piece of board with a round part to keep it on her head. She was wearing a robe like the ones they wore in the preschool Christmas show. There was one of these and another where she wore a robe, but instead of the hat she had a shiny hood pulled up over her head. Grammy said that the pictures of his mommy in the robes were from when she graduated. The one with the hood was from when she got her doctor.
When Grammy talked about his mommy graduating, her voice would wobble. John didn’t know why. He thought graduating must be something very bad and he was sorry his mom had had to do it twice. But he was glad she got her doctor because when he was sick the doctor would help him feel better. Maybe his mommy’s doctor helped her after she graduated.
. . . Once he asked his Grammy why his mom wasn’t there with them. She got very quiet, and at first he worried he’d said something really bad. He wanted Grammy to stop looking so sad but then she took a breath and told him that his mother had died in an accident when he was a baby. That was why the only pictures of them together were from when he was small. He wanted to know why she had to die, and Grammy told him that in accidents people weren’t supposed to die, but sometimes they did, and she was sorry he’d lost his mom.”

This next excerpt is from the scene where man who caused the accident wakes up in jail and first learns what he has done.
“Robert stood up. Officer Lambert unlocked the cell, stepped forward, snapped a set of handcuffs onto his wrists and steered him out of the cell to a glassed-in room. His lawyer, Nelson, sat at a long table, looking over a folder of papers. As the door swung open he looked up, nodded, and returned his attention to the folder.
Officer Lambert pushed Robert in the direction of a chair opposite Nelson and retreated to the doorway.
“Have you been able to get bail posted for me?”
Nelson gave him an inscrutable glance and looked down. He closed the folder and put it aside, then set about examining the backs of his spread hands. He kept his nails short and trimmed square. They were so shiny that Robert would have bet money he went in for regular manicures . . . “Aren’t you going to thank me for coming out on a Sunday?”
“Sunday? This is Saturday.”
“No, Robert, it’s Sunday. I’m quite certain. Now, as to your situation, I can post bail, but it will be expensive.”
“Can you please tell me what the hell I’m being charged with?”
Nelson applied fresh concentration to the inspection of his hands. “Robert, you’re being charged with one count of vehicular homicide. Allegedly you were driving under the influence of quite a bit of alcohol. Allegedly you were solely responsible for an accident that took the life of a young woman. There was also a small child in the car.”
He looked up and met Robert’s eyes.
“The child survived.”
Robert sat back, mentally rewinding the last few days. Friday evening he’d stayed in and had his housekeeper make him dinner. Steak and a baked potato. He remembered opening a bottle of that Sonoma cab. She had made a chocolate cake and left it frosted and waiting when she went home for the night. He’d had a slice for dessert. A nightcap out at Solly’s piano bar. He remembered getting into the Lexus, driving over, Solly’s nod as he walked in. He couldn’t remember anything after that, but surely . . . ”