I'm sure there are a number of convincing excuses that I could give you for not having a third book for you to read. I'm sure you don't really want to hear them, as they usually consist of me just being really, really, realllllly lazy.
But I've got a good one this time.
My part is done.
I wrote the darn book. I edited the thing. I sat there and made my computer and my Kindle read the book aloud to me as to reduce the number of typos and errors (and there were a TON this time. Like, I'm getting the sense that I don't really speak English. Awkward...) and I finished all that I need to do.
I made the cover, put the cover up on the internet (hey hey Goodreads) and I've spent the last few days doing nothing to advance the publication of this book.
What the hell am I waiting for then?
Well, I need validation from someone or something that this shizz is good enough to publish.
My thing is that I have this inexplicable urgency to get a book out of my hands once I write it. I would equate it to being pregnant, except I've never been pregnant, am not forced to deal with a 45 pound weight gain and bouts of morning sickness, and it took me 2.5 months to write this book, not 9. But yeah, I think I'm actually just going to go ahead and sort of equate it with a pregnancy because I'm not creative enough to think of another metaphor.
You know that episode of Friends (I'm not totally sure, but I think it's Season 8, episode 22, entitled "The One Where Rachel is Late," written by Shana Goldberg-Meehan and directed by Gary Halverson. But like I said, I'm not sure; it's not like I'm a Friends superfan), when Rachel is desperate to give birth to her baby and utilizes a series of unscientific labor inducers to try to pop that (literal) baby out?
Yeah, so that's me and my books.
Once I write them I just want them gone, and then I don't read them again once I've published them, and I cringe when people say the names of the books to me in public because for no apparent reason I get so uncomfortable when that happens.
Like, I was at the dentist the other day, and as my teeth are being cleaned, the dentist started asking about my books. Fine, I appreciate the enthusiasm and the attention, but honestly, I just came off as such an awkward weirdo. It probs didn't help that the dentist was scraping at my teeth, but I have no finesse when it comes to talking about my books.
"Gurgle, cough gurgle, yeah I ha los uh fun wri-ing thum," Cathy replied as the dentist eyed her shoddy floss work.
"We're all so proud of you. The doctor has been talking about you all morning."
"Thaiks, thas coo," she slurped. Cathy then realized that her writing a book is pretty impossible to fathom because she is the world's worst conversationalist.
So, my excuse to you for not having released my third book (which is called Panopticon but I'm too freaking weird and awkward to say it in conversation like it's a real book) is that I'm waiting on feedback from my beta-reader.
But at this point I'm so over it that not many changes will be made. So, I will do my best to get this book out before the end of January.
That's for my 8 fans. Once I have more fans than there are band members in Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, I will consider myself a success.