A short blog post for today, since I'm getting a lot together for the next few days.
I keep thinking, can't it be July 15 already? I just want to be able to hold my own book in my hands, to breathe in the clean new book smell of my very own novel for the first time. I want to discuss the ins and outs of my novel with people I never would've expected would actually want to read my work, to be able to walk into the library and stare at my beautiful book glistening on the shelf, smiling back at me.
Instead I'm pulling my dog out from under my bed because he keeps escaping into that space like he owns it, my room is getting turned inside-out as I prepare to host relatives, I'm recovering from scraping my butt while longboarding (believe it or not, nothing else got hurt when I fell), needles are getting stuck in my arm to make sure I don't pass tuberculosis to children, and I keep shoving other people's books in front of my face so I won't think about mine as much.
So the truth is, yes, I'm getting impatient and can't wait to see my book in print. But at the same time, I am enjoying the process. I'm savoring the moments of being an unpublished writer and preparing to unclench my fists and allow my baby (that is, my book) to become widely available for the public to ogle, look at from every angle, and even hate. I'm still allowing the fact that my book will be published in a month sink into my poor disbelieving brain, and probably won't believe it until a box full of books finds its way to my house.
Until then, impatient Jelsa remains impatient, but very grateful and excited at the same time.