Publishing a book is a funny process where at each point along the way you realize that you don’t really know much about what is going on, and you also don’t know whether it would be better for your mental health to really understand it all or if then you’d just drive yourself crazy. It’s also a process, for me anyway, of suppressing things that you know about yourself—like the fact that I hate reading my own work—and then rediscovering them.
It’s really exciting though too. That’s the thing—there is a lot of stress and anxiety and insecurity floating around but also suddenly people you don’t know, that you’ve never met, spoken to or even obsessively researched online, are reading your book and taking it seriously. Which is amazing. Because it is often really hard to get people, even people who love you, to read your book. And I get why, I do—books are long, so that’s quite a few hours of someone’s life that you are talking about and there are a million amazing books already out there that they could read instead and we are, it is commonly agreed upon, in a magnificent golden age of television. So when my editor occasionally makes a comment about how other people are reading my book, it’s pretty magnificent. Terrifying, but magnificent.
Reading: Just finished The Nest. I really enjoyed it. Half the characters are kind of awful people, Seinfeld style, but it’s definitely never boring.
Writing: Trying to start plugging away on something new. I also took a short screenwriting class, which I found totally fascinating. Not sure if screenwriting would be my forte, but it’s a fun thing to learn about.