Writing a Book is Like Having a Baby

Last week, it dawned on me that it had been exactly nine months since I signed my book deal. Nine months of stress and excitement and worry and exuberance and everything in between. It seemed perfectly fitting that the gestation period so closely echoed my pregnancies, since the book really has become my fourth child. But, the timing is the very least of it. Everything about coming out with this book has been like having a baby…

1. It’s nothing like I expected. I imagined pregnancy and childbirth to be this miraculous event where I would suddenly just feel like an earth goddess and be encompassed in pure maternal love and joy. Just like I envisioned myself suddenly all intellectual and shit once I became a published author. Hardly the case with either. I hated every minute of pregnancy and got scolded at a reading for swearing too much. Nothing changes.

2. I’m obsessed. I must have sent out ten e-mails a week when Lily was a newborn with pictures and updates, driving everyone in my life crazy. She was all I could talk about, write about and think about… Sound familiar? Remember when I used to write about something other than the book?!

3. People tell me more than I care to know. Take for example, this email I received from a man I don’t know in Utah: “I am so sorry to do this, I promise, but since I’m a guy I’m going to “go there,” that purple seemingly “leather” dress? outfit? is not something that you want to wear on TV with the orange sweater over it, it doesn’t fit and it reflects the TV lights. Don’t forget what TV does….” Um, did I ask? I didn’t ask people what they thought of my baby names or the fact that I formula fed and I certainly don’t recall asking people what they thought of my dress.

4. I use the baby as an excuse. You know that haze you walk around in when you have an infant and everyone just understands because you have a new baby at home? I’m in that delirious phase again, except my baby doesn’t spit up or need diaper changes.

5. The lows, are LOW. Like the Concord, New Hampshire, book signing/reading, where ONE person showed up. I think a good rule of thumb is that you should never have fewer people at your book signing than the number of people who watched your bruised vagina push out a newborn. Sitting at an entry table accosting innocent strangers to buy your book is even lower than having a meltdown when the mailman asks when you’re due as the two month old baby sits in the next room. Not so much fun.

6. The highs are high. The sleepless nights, crying fits and utter frustration suck, but then you have that moment of peacefully holding your sweet baby and they all wash away. The last few months have been some of the most stressful of my life. That NH reading kicked my ass, but the two readings following in Warwick, RI and Burlington, MA were so much fun and more than made up for it.

7. The “it” moment. For me, it was the moment each of my kids flashed me that first smile. Nothing but pure and utter joy. With this baby, it was finding out that I hit next week’s New York Times Best Seller’s list late last night. Holy shit!!!!!

And, thank you. I could never have done this without your support.