So Much More Complex
March 14th, 2010
When I tell people my first novel is being published next month they quite often say, ‘You must be so excited.’ Depending on how well I know the person I say either, ‘Oh, yes, so excited,’ or ‘Not really, the excitement part of it happened over a year ago.’ I’m not jaded but the emotions accompanying publication are complex and almost akin to having a baby.
It’s not really socially acceptable for women to admit to any feelings other than instant maternal love, just as it isn’t quite the thing to admit to mixed emotions at the publishing of one’s book. After all, this is what all writers want, isn’t it? Yes, it is, but it is so connected to one’s inner life, one’s private core, that as an experience it can never be confined to the one word, ‘exciting.’
I received a copy of my book in the mail – the first time I’d seen the finished product. I smiled to myself as I examined it, flicked through the pages and briefly fondled the embossing on the cover. Then I put it to one side of my desk and went back to what I was doing. Occasionally my gaze would slide over toward this new object in my life and I’d stare for a moment and then return to the task at hand. I was reminded of a moment after the birth of one of my children. I lay in the hospital bed, drained of energy and looked over at this baby lying quietly in its little plastic box and thought, ‘Only hours ago you were inside me and now you’re over there.’ It was a strange feeling. I now had to share what had been the ultimate in private relationships. I looked at my book at the edge of the desk in a similar manner, ‘Only eighteen months ago you were in my head and now you‘re a book.’ The externalisation of my imagination made public. Weird feeling.
Satisfying? Very. A sense of accomplishment? Definitely. Wonder? Yes. Excitement? No.
But it wouldn’t be correct to say there has been no excitement along the way. There was excitement while on the creative journey of actually writing the book – the intense involvement that elevates solving a plot knot or getting the dialog just right to an ecstatic moment. I was excited when told of being selected for the Hachette Australia/Queensland Writers Centre Manuscript Development Program, which led to my publication. I wanted to scream and run up and down the aisles of the supermarket I was in at the time. I couldn’t believe the people around me continued to fill their trolleys with cornflakes oblivious to my incredible good fortune.
Months later, being offered a two-book contract astonished me. It was a surreal moment, and it’s taken months for me to assimilate the reality and the implications associated with this new world. The editing of the book, seeing the cover for the first time, hearing of its sale to Random House in Germany have all provided moments of intensity - from fear, to pride, to glum disbelief, awe and onto a sense of achievement heavily flavoured with bewilderment. Like I said, it’s a complex occasion. I’ve been very lucky to work with a talented and committed team at Hachette, and knowing my book was in good hands has made the process a hell of a lot easier for me.
Which leads me to say it’s not really my book. Yes, it’s my story, my characters, my ideas, but a large team of people have made it into a book and I see their efforts when I look at the finished volume. These are people behind the scenes whose names never get mentioned but who are vital to the process. So it is ‘our’ book, and I guess all of us feel a sense of accomplishment at producing this book and now hope for its success. When I see it on the shelves, I know I’ll have a sense of a job well done, but I’ll be ready to get back to the excitement of creating another story.
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Categories: on writing | Tags: creativity, imagination, publishing, writing
7 Comments
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Good post, P, and more power to you for being a team player. Good luck when Book of Love launches next month. R
The word surreal is the one I’d chose over all the rest. And I’m glad you used it too.
The first moments of holding the proof certainly were thrilling beyond articulation. But before that? Well, before that, there was so much work involved in whipping the thing into shape–yes, we all think we’ve sent off a perfect manuscript…ha ha ha. And then we see all those bazillion typos and repeated words found by the editors and proofreaders.
But then, yes, you look at it, you hold it, fondle the thing even. But it’s, er, more work…because you’re meant to go over it again, for final checks. Even though you’d swear your eyes will bleed if you look at it again.
And by the time it actually comes out, well, all that joy has been internalised, and you’re living permanently in the surreal world–and you’re living in the heads of the next book anyway. And nothing is as you’d expected it. And yes, because we’re writers, we’ve been mentally articulating how great it will be when it happens…it’s just not…well, it’s just not like that.
Enjoy that wonderful moment, Phillipa! I know the Hachette team will be cheering your fabulous achievement.
It is a long process that seems to speed up exponentially as publication date looms… There will only be one ‘first book’ release day so enjoy it!
M.M, so well put, it’s just NOT like that!
Helene, I will enjoy it but I do tend to over think things, you know, take them apart to see how it works. Should do less of that, (note to self)
Richard, once you get on board this train it suddenly becomes apparent how many person hours - and not just mine - go into getting a book up and out. There’s a phenomenal investment of time and thought involved.
Jump UP and Down at least once for me Phillipa! It’s a great achievment.
Love
Ed
Interesting post, well said. It does seem very similar to having a baby. But in my case, I’m barren and still trying to get preggers. ha.
Phillipa - I loved this post - especially giving birth to a novel. Thanks for the Interview on 2MCE yesterday. We await those novels in the making. Richard