I just spent a couple of days formatting The Stick Princess for paperback on Amazon, and after spending about two days reinserting all my italics and figuring out how to make a table of contents that isn’t automatic, I clicked publish. The book should be out within three days, but I’ll let you know when it’s live in case you want to buy a hard copy. It costs more, largely because of printing cost, but I know I’d rather read a physical book in bed at night than read on my phone. Also, a friend wanted to have a complete set for her bookshelf, and that makes sense to me too. Or it would make a great Christmas present.
As I re-read the manuscript, I found myself thinking, “Well, this is readable,” which was encouraging considering when I generally finish writing and press “publish” I immediately realize my latest book is the most appalling bucket of pablum ever to be put into words. Considering I taught sixth grade English for ten years, you may infer that I lack a certain sense of proportion. That, I gather, is normal for writers. One must be grandiose enough to think someone else might want to read what we write, and at the same time convinced of our inner despicability to the point where we want to go out back and make a bonfire of our books.
Here’s a question for you: What should I start working on next? I have three manuscripts drafted: A collection of short stories, a collection of 365 writing prompts/first lines that I plan to illustrate, and a novel about an English teacher who ends up foster-parenting an escaped guardian of the Underworld.