It’s the day before my cover reveal.
I’ll never have a first book again.
I’ll never be a debut novelist again.
I’ll never again have a first cover reveal as an author. And as soon as the Paisley Piranhas – the kind hosts for the reveal – press the button, it’ll be out there for the world to see. Hopefully, for the world to love!
It got me thinking about the day before.
The day before Christmas: My childhood probably differed from most of you readers. That day was spent on a hill, with an axe, or saw, or both in hand. My parents owned the steep bit of land directly below our house and, in one of my dad’s brilliant schemes (he was famous for those), the hill was planted with what seemed like millions of tiny fir trees. Fast forward ten years or so, and every day before Christmas I was exercising those upper arm muscles, helping and hauling and sawing and hacking. Trying to get my fingers, stiff-with-cold, into my clammy pockets to find change for all the strangers and stragglers and last minute panickers who hadn’t got their tree yet.
The day before my wedding: I couldn’t eat, which was ironic, as I baked no less than twelve cakes for the reception in my newsagent boss’s kitchen on that day. This resulted in a post-midnight Chinese takeaway binge as my nerves and adrenaline receded.
And the day before my cover reveal? Today I swam forty lengths (halo), looked out camping equipment for departing teenagers who are off to the Soul Survivor Festival, paid bills, sourced some music for the book trailer (I can’t wait until that is out there!) and did the usual washing/catering/taxi-ing. After this blog post I am going to churn out another chunk of my current work-in-progress. I may even stay up late to watch the opening ceremony of the Olympics. And then I’ll sleep, ready to keep an eye on the Paisley Piranha blog.
Can’t wait to hear what you all think!