Well, it’s here at last. My book! This is my first novel that I’ve managed to complete. The journey was not nearly as tumultuous as the books I hope to finish in the future. It took me less than three years (okay, it was two years, 49 weeks, but who’s counting?) to get the damn thing from first words to published book.
One of the first things people notice when they see The Truth is that I used my real name. Some people are impressed; others are afraid for me. To be honest, I just don’t give a shit anymore. One of the key themes of this book is that you can do everything right and still end up on the losing side of life.
Over the past few months, I have consciously decided to merge all my various personae: my snarky Twitter feed, where I recently got into it with my boyfriend (he started it, but, yes, we’ve kissed and made up in our weird little way); my beer life (never let a potential employer see you in a picture with a beer in your hand! to which I say if my present employer is in craft beer, I probably shouldn’t be seen without a beer in my hand!); my charitable life; my family life (although I am pretty careful about my kids… this is the Internet afterall). I’ve never been particularly good at compartmentalizing, and keeping these threads in different fabrics didn’t land me a better job, garner me a raise, get me a boyfriend/girlfriend, or bolster my standing with my family.
It is very scary to have my name out there on a book, but chances are no one will see it. The truth (pun intended) is that the average novel sells 2,000 copies. Or, as I told my jacket designer, I’m not worried about facing the disappointment that no one reads this book; I’m terrified by the prospect it becomes a best seller.
Because my name is there for all to see. Laid bare. Naked. At your mercy.