Crying to Launch
Throughout my Second Set Chances writing ventures, authors with far more publishing experience “warned” me how emotional a first book launch is. “Wait until you hold your book in your hands for the first time.” “Wait until you get asked to sign it.” “Wait until you give your first reading.” I noted each one and tucked them away in my brain to revisit later (if and when I would be published).
The problem is, publishing Second Set Chances, a contemporary women’s (non)fiction book (okay, it’s a memoir) about life transitions, love triangles, and Phish was a beast of a feat. It took me almost six years to write, edit, rewrite, edit, query, rewrite, edit, be offered a book deal with Vine Leaves Press, edit, edit, and edit, meaning I completely forgot about what I’d been told to expect when birthing my book baby.
With less than three months from book launch and the fulfillment of a lifelong dream, I’ve stepped into heavy marketing and promotion. If you follow me on social media, you may be absolutely sick of hearing about Second Set Chances. Or maybe not, because the response from family, friends, acquaintances, and strangers has completely knocked me out of my boogie shows. I’ve received hundreds of well wishes and congratulations in person, via text message, and on social media. Many of my social media posts related to Second Set Chances or other writing projects have been reshared on Facebook and Instagram. All this support has caused my heart to soar in love and gratitude.
But I’ve also been crying too. I can’t help it. When two fellow writers/Phish fans shared writing posts of mine on Facebook Phish groups, I was so overcome with gratitude, bowled over in their support and thoughtfulness, that the tears were immediate and involuntary, as tears are known to be. I now have to brace myself when logging onto Good Reads; last week I discovered someone had given Second Set Chances a 4.5 (out of 5) star review. The reader, a woman located in India, a complete stranger to me, wrote a lengthy review and called it “unputdownable.” I sobbed.
So, as you have probably surmised, I am emotionally underprepared for any of it.
I had therapy yesterday. Though there were so many things my brain needed to unpack, this was what I brought up first. I presented Amy (not her real name) with an ARC of Second Set Chances as I walked in, so it made for the most organic of segues. “Here’s my book. Everything makes me cry. How can I better prepare myself for my upcoming launch.”
She smiled at me, her eyes lighting up as she asked. “Well, what kind if tears are they.”
“Oh, happy tears, no doubt.”
“Of course they are. You’ve accomplished something major. Something you’ve been working on for a long time. You’re going to have happy tears. That’s just your limbic system doing its job.
“But how do I control it.”
“Why would you want to control it. Celebrate. Feel good. Cry.”
For most of my life, I’d been embarrassed of how emotionally sensitive I am, but through Amy’s help, it’s something I can now proudly admit. She’s right about this too (of course she is). I need to feel my feelings. Allow them to wash over me and let them loose. I have accomplished a lifelong dream; there should be plenty of happy tears through all phases of this book launch. So, no more hiding them. Instead, I shall revel. And make sure I carry tissues on me at all times.
