The early word
Today is the one-week countdown to the release of the book and audiobook of Notes for the Everlost: A Field Guide to Grief, and I'm dreaming vividly about falling out of windows and running from tigers, and in waking hours I am pacing, on some kind of hold. I am pep-talking myself! Gaslighting myself! Spinning in circles and feeling grateful for patient friends. This is a tender week. Please treat me as you would a vinegar mother, one of those floating slime clumps of bacteria and acidic fermenting brought about by the vinegar's boorishly predictable anxiety, nerves, and self-doubt.
What helps, a little: lovely trade publication and fellow author reviews popping up, along with the most incredible cohort of early readers sharing their thoughts and experiences on Goodreads. It matters, it matters, it matters—it speaks. Muttering and pacing. A bit like watching a wobbly toddler navigate the playground for the first time, trying to hold back, let them bump up against the world. Nerves, the nerves! And love.
I am so grateful for all the literary industry readers, and all the everyday ones who have sent me photos of the book en-situ, all over the world, with cats and woodstoves and Japanese beer. It’s wonderful to see.
On to the next task, because staying busy this week is a must: I'm taking over Shambhala’s Instagram feed for the week, sharing excerpts, readings, and a photographic retrospective of life after loss. Join me over there, won’t you?