I’m feeling a distinct torpor, but I’m trying to shake it off. Not sure what’s happening. Maybe just that my novel’s text got finalized, but it still has another year to come out. It really feels like right now, at this moment, no one wants anything from me. I definitely have the space to just sort of dilly-dally. Unfortunately, when you dilly-dally at these moments, it shows up years later as a gap in your output. That’s no good! I’m trying to move forward in life, make a career of this.
Sometimes I still can’t believe I sold a book. It feels completely unreal. When did this happen? How? What did I do? It definitely doesn’t feel like I did anything. I mean, I don’t feel any different. I still get plenty of rejections. When I write something, I still assume it’ll never get published. Even in terms of my daily schedule, I’m writing full-time now (sort of), but when I was in graduate school I had plenty of free time too, so that feels very similar.
The book is sold, though, and it’s coming out. And it’s sooo good. My publisher just forwarded me the jacket copy they’re including with the book, and it’s amazing. That’s one thing where genre fiction has literary fiction completely beat. The jacket copy on literary novels is always incredibly dull (genre writers would say that this is because literary fiction is inherently dull, but I disagree with that). I think it’s because literary jacket copy always tries to convey the experience of reading a book, even though that’s an inherently unexplainable thing. Whereas genre jacket copy just tries to convince you to read the damn thing. The jacket copy on a literary novel is like your college professor telling you why the book is important, whereas the jacket copy on a genre novel is like your best friend telling you why the book is fucking awesome.