Waiting, waiting...

The last couple of weeks have been quite momentous ones in the life of this writer.

First, I received two draft concepts for my cover. One of these I admired very much, but didn't want for my book. I found it too confronting and too upsetting. The other I absolutely loved. I thought it was unusual and beautiful and really expressed what I am trying to say with my words. It has a dream-like quality and I know my mother would have liked it. That feels important seeing the book's about her. Nicola, my editor, said she loves that concept too, and that's the one the designer will develop for the book. I am impatient to see the final result though I am feeling more confident than I did.

Seeing the art work made a surprisingly big difference. It's made the book feel more real to me. Until then I'd felt in limbo. I signed the contract way back last December and it's been a long six months. I delivered the final draft at the end of April and then had to wait until Nicola read it. That was awful. It still wasn't too late for the publisher to walk away if they didn't like it. But Nicola did. She loved it!

Then I had to wait some more while Nicola edited it. That was nerve wracking. She kept sending me lovely, reassuring emails about how 'clean' the manuscript was and what a pleasure to edit, but I didn't really believe her. All my insecurity demons came out to play and they whispered in my ear that in editing school editors are taught to say nice things to their authors so they'll accept slashing and burning of their precious words more easily.

And then the first edit dropped into my email inbox. Nicola had meant what she'd said. There wasn't anything too drastic. All that angst was for nothing.

Surprisingly, I'm enjoying the editing process. It's reconnected me with the writing, and I like Nicola's work. I think she has a good eye and a good ear and although she's scrupulous - she hasn't let me get away with anything - she's also very gentle. I feel very privileged to have her edit my manuscript.

The third event was having some photographs taken by Daniel Mahon for publicity purposes. My new profile picture is one of his. And so is the little pic on this post. I actually enjoyed the session though I had dreaded it. I think he's a great photographer who knows how to get the best out of his subjects.

I'm finishing up the first round of editing this week, then it's over to Nicola, and more waiting until the manuscript comes back for me to have another go. Then when that's done there'll be further rounds of waiting until the book finally hits the shelves in November and I wait to see how it's received.

I'd like to say I'm developing patience but I don't think that's true. I'm just getting more used to waiting.

Stage Fright

Late last Thursday night I finally hit the key to send my manuscript to my editor. What a scary, scary moment. It was such a hard thing to do.

Since then I've been reading reviews of other books on similar themes. Some of the reviews are not so favourable and now, although I'm desperate for my book to be published, I'm also dreading its reception. Will it get poor reviews or, worse still really, no reviews at all? Will it sink unnoticed into what's increasingly looking like an overcrowded field? What's so special about my book anyway? Isn't it sentimental and self indulgent? Why would anyone want to read about my specific experience? The publisher accepted the manuscript on the basis of the first ten chapters, which were all I'd written at that time. That was exciting then. Now I worry that they'll hate the rest of the book.

All this has taken me by surprise. I stupidly believed all my self doubt would be gone by now. First there's the worry that you can actually finish your project, then the worry that it'll be accepted for publication. I thought that those would be the big ones and that afterwards I'd be full of confidence, but it's not like that at all. And still to come, I'm sure, are concerns I haven't even thought of yet.

I don't know how long it will be till I receive the marked up manuscript. Meanwhile I remain in limbo, worrying.

Alzheimer's: A Love Story

I’ve sold my book about my mother's Alzheimer's. (This is not a picture of my mother, but of Alois Alzheimer who discovered the disease.) The book's working title is Alzheimer's: A Love Story.

I originally thought I’d wait until I finished the first draft before sending it off to a publisher, but I changed my mind. I began to feel that I needed editorial assistance with the structure, and without that I thought I’d waste a lot of time.

I submitted the first ten chapters to Scribe, the first publisher on my list, and three days later they offered me a contract.

They called it ‘impressive and moving’. Yippee!

It makes me nervous. This book that thus far has belonged only to me now has to answer to the outside world. But I’m thrilled and excited too, and I look forward to working on it with an editor. And of course to seeing it in the hands of readers.