one year on

This time last year, I could not shut up about how a Real Live Editor had contacted me, and liked my book, and might even buy it. My wondrous friends and family bore with me without a single complaint, without even a single snide, "Yes, Deb, WE KNOW."

Frightened of jinxing myself, I didn't actually talk about it on the blog overmuch. The clues were there, just sorta buried. For instance, here I mention the phone call, and here I talk about how bad I am at waiting, and do you notice how in both instances I'm implying it's all to do with the new bed? Oh, I was lying, lying through my electronic teeth. A fortnight later, I fessed up to signing with my agent, but it wasn't until the ink was dry on the A&U contract that I confessed the book deal proper. Because although it was becoming increasingly remote, there was still the possibility that I was making the whole thing up.1

Last night, I wrote my acknowledgments, and tomorrow the book is going to print.

Which means this little beast is now truly out of my hands.

Do you know, I think I might celebrate. Drinks all round!

1. It is worth noting that, although the cheque for the advance didn't convince me it was all real, the editorial process did. No one is that thorough on a manuscript that isn't going to print. [↩]