My author's copies of Snow Day arrived in the mail today. I was expecting them, since Heather, my PR Publicist from Outskirts, had told me they were on their way and should arrive today.
I didn't open the box right away. To tell the truth, I was afraid. Sure, I'd loved the cover when I'd first seen it -- I knew right away it was just what I had imagined. The interior illustrations were bright and fun and captured the essence of my words. I'd approved all, knowing the book would look just like I wanted it to.
Then the books arrived, and along with them, the trepidation. If you're a writer, you know just what I mean. That little internal editor puts in his two cents: "You're going to find a big fat mistake." "The illustrations are going to look different."
So, I put the box on the table, and tried to pretend that it wasn't there. I fed the cats, changed clothes, sorted the rest of the mai, wandered around the house and turned on lights in the living room. All the while, I could almost hear it saying "Open me, open me."
My resolve to ignore that box evaporated in 30 minutes, lasting about as long as it does for my annual New Year's diet. I ripped the box open and took out the top book.
My internal editor was right. Snow Day in the flesh -- in the paper? -- looked very different from the PDF files I had worked with during the production process. The cover is shiny and bright. The colors glisten. I can hear the kids laughing as they slide down the hill in the cover illustration, feel the cold air on my nose. It feels slick and smooth in my hands, just like books by other authors tht I've picked up in the bookstores.
And then I see my name at the bottom. Pamela Greenhalgh Hamilton. My book, not another person's book, but my book. I can't stop thumbing through the pages, seeing the illustrations as if it was the first time I've seen them.
I'm thrilled beyond words, probably not a good thing for a writer to confess to. I can't wait to see what happens next!