The Arrival Part One: Six, Twenty-two Pound Boxes

The book on the floor in my living room. It's real!

I got my copies of "Pray" yesterday.  They arrived just as the title of this blog says, in six boxes that are currently stacked up in our living room, much to the interest of the cats.

Nicole is actually out of town at the moment, but through the wonders of technology (also known as Skype) we were able to video chat while I opened the first box and pulled out a copy of my very first book.*

It was kind of a weird moment.  I would imagine it's probably a miniature version of having a child.  This was a joyous occasion, after all.  It had been years since I started "Pray" and even more years since I first put pencil to paper and fancied myself a writer.  For all the one off short stories in online journals and self-published books, this was it: my first real breakthrough.  My first tangible moment.

And yet.

Actually have these books in my possession makes all of this very real; it also marks the beginning of the next phase, which is getting people to buy the book.  I have to get out there and I have to promote it, and that's kind of terrifying.

I think anyone who knows me is probably thinking "are you kidding me? You should be great at promoting the book!"  Because, when I finally coerce myself to be out going, I can run with the best of them.  But I'm not promoting my Microsoft Office skills to my boss at a job that I know is beneath me.  I'm not talking about my relationship with Nicole, one of the few things in this world that I am confident in.  I'm not even talking about my usual nerdy things, like comic books or music or television.  No, I have to go out there and promote a book that I wrote, something I put years of my life into, something that means an awful lot to me.

I have to convince people that not only is this a book worth reading, but that I'm a writer worth trusting.

Even scarier is the idea that if I convince people to buy "Pray," they'll then write reviews about it.  By default, this is going to be the most widely read piece of work that I've ever created, so by default it will end up getting the most feedback.  And as I'm sure most writers would tell you, our egos fluctuate between gargantuan and minuscule -- and that's on a normal day.  Throw some reviews in there and who knows what you'll get.

Strangely enough, the one area in which I feel no pressure concerns the fact that this book is about my grandparents.  Yes, I do feel a bit nervous about the idea that some of the men my grandfather served with might read this and take issue with some of the finer details.  But I know that my family will enjoy the book and I know that my grandmother will cherish it, and, in that respect, it's enough for me.  I think my grandfather would be happy.

I started writing "Pray" with two goals in mind: to do my grandfather's life justice and to take a big step into the literary world.  I'm confident in the first; here's hoping I can do just as well with the second.