That amazing moment when your long-awaited, much worried-over book arrives in its real and touchable form never loses its power. I don't know about other authors, but I want to stroke the book, and smell it, and generally coo over it. I usually carry it around with me for a few days, desperate to show it to someone. But one thing that I am far too frightened to do is actually open it. What if I spot a mistake? What if I want to change something? What if it's rubbish?
Again, I don't know about other authors, but I have discovered that I can't open it at all until someone - anyone - says they've read it, or even part of it, or they've heard of someone who's read it, or part of it, and that they LIKED it. THEN I grab the book and open it and try to feel like a reader, not a writer. Anyway, that happened today, because my husband started reading it and he said he loved it. You might think, 'So what? HE WOULD say that, wouldn't he? After all, if he doesn't, you won't cook a lovely meal tonight.' Well, you obviously don't know my husband .... He will say what he thinks. And he's perfectly capable of cooking his own meal, and mine too.
So, I can now read it. But first, a bit more stroking of the gorgeous cover. Thank you to all the wonderful people at Walker for that - and, of course, Christian Birmingham, the artist. But now, I'll stop being all gushy and loveyish. And go and cook that meal.
But it IS a lovely cover, don't you think? So very strokable ...
