I am only a month or so into the process of my poetry collection being published and can I just say I am loving every minute of it? If anyone had told me this time last year that I would be posing for the back cover pic of my published book in the near future I’d stare at them blankly then roll my eyeballs. Now it’s a reality.
Similar to a woman carrying a baby to term, this is a nine or so month process. I’m not preparing a nursery nor am I picking out pink baby booties. I’m not attending Lamaze classes and I certainly am not expecting milk any time soon.
What I have been doing is communicating with my publisher and completing the book related tasks required. A few weeks ago I fleshed out a back page blurb and the books dedication. Writing about myself seemed easy ’til I needed my word choice to never be more perfect in gracing these back jackets.
Yesterday I whipped off my auto-bio in under fifty words and I penned my writing aspirations in under a hundred. Earlier in the week I had a loved one shoot my auspicious frame and face in a series of attempted image stills. I wasn’t very pose-worthy but from it came a handful or so of really decent shots.
Even simply referring to “my publisher” gives me a tickle every time. I need to pinch myself in one of the remaining flab reservoirs on my ever lessening body on repeat. Sure, I have dreams and hopes of becoming a “best seller” and reaching the world over but honestly, just being able to get this made and out there is exciting enough.
And so life trudges on and days blur into the next. We do the things we do and pass the time accordingly. But in the back pocket of my mind I strut with this unsecret to the beat of a different drum. It is uptempo and it is in perfect sync with where I’m at and with who I am.
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