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Musings and mind leaks... Typewriter

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  1. A few days ago I received a box of books in the post. It was a box of my books; my debut novel; my baby; my first born, and lots of other over-effusive descriptions for what was, essentially, a box full of paper. It was a very strange sensation. Of course, I was very pleased to have a copy in my hand, check that it was all okay and that the quality was as good as I hoped (it was), but there was another feeling that I hadn't expected, and it was this: My book is now a physical thing. Even the digital version is kind of physical once it's downloaded onto an e-reader. I can pick it up and hold it and see the printed words with my eyes. It's no longer something that's in me, or even part of me. It was once, but now it's independent of me. It now has a life of its own. Now, I'm not a parent but I imagined it was a little bit like seeing a child that's grown up leaving home.  I now have to decide what kind of mother I'm going to be. Will I be possessive and over-emotional, interfering with every action, lashing out at every criticism, and demanding that my book phones home every day? Or will I be strong and selfless and let it go free to live its own life with my blessing? I want to be like the latter and set it free...Off you go, little book. I hope you find good friends and kind enemies. I hope you live a long life and inspire a few people along the way. Farewell, be free...but don't forget to phone home once in a while! (Nope, I'm not crying. I've just got something in my eye.)

    Book cover STW

  2. In 5 days' time, the physical copies of my debut novel will be delivered to my door. The ebook is already spreading itself across the virtual world and people are downloading it onto convenient reading devices. This must be the time when all authors, no matter how seasoned or experienced, have that odd feeling of nothingness waiting for somethingness that's totally unknown, and that is: what will they think of it? Human beings (hopefully more than just a couple) will soon be looking at black print on white paper or black pixels on little screens, and taking in some words that came out of my imagination and stuffing them into their own to process. What will that process be like? What will a reader see in their mind? Will it be the same as what I saw? Will it make them happy? sad? inspired? bored? I don't know yet. It will probably be different for everybody. It's all fascinating to me. Some ideas got into my head (and where do ideas come from?...that's another blog), those ideas got condensed into words and sentences and paragraphs that were written down, then typed up, then processed by a publisher and a printer and all bound up in paper and digital bits. Then somebody will read those ideas, mix them with their own ideas and something will be alive in the world that wasn't before. It's quite a thought. It's scary, and profound, and exciting. For those of you that plan to read the finished book: Thank you for reading. I look forward to finding out what you made of it, and I hope you find something in it that you enjoy x