Monday, January 18, 2010

Three Pounds, Seven Ounces

The day started out like every other. I peeled back the covers, touched my feet to the floor and did a couple yoga stretches to loosen my back and un-kink my neck. I was halfway to the bathroom when Callie-dog reminded me today was B-day.



I was delivering my Book manuscript to the publisher.

The Book.


Seven years ago, I first began the research. Last year, I took a sabbatical from work to complete the actual writing. The past three months, I fought panic on a daily basis. Nighttime brought sweats and silly nightmares about forgotten interviews. I agonized over a single word for hours. I became a cliché.

Then, suddenly, it was finished. Final weight on delivery: 3 lbs. 7 oz. It seemed rather small, considering the time and tears it cost to build it.

P, Callie-dog and I drove two hours to the publisher in Fredericton. It seemed surreal. Just another road trip. We stopped at a café and had breakfast just like normal people. Bacon. Hashbrowns. A bucket of coffee. Nothing healthy.

G. met us and accompanied us to the publisher's office, as she should, considering the boatloads of moral support, Kleenex and editorial advice she contributed through the passage of years. She knows the story as well as I do. P. snapped my photo before I went in...don't I look grinny-faced? I already feel more than 3 lbs. 7 oz. lighter.

The receptionist looked at me queerly when I asked if there were balloons or a band or fireworks.


"First time author", I said in explanation. She forced a very teeny smile. "Sorry," she said, offering none of the above.

What? Even the vet gives out a rub behind the ear and a couple dog cookies.

I set my little bundle gently on her desk. "Three pounds, seven ounces." I said, suddenly feeling separation anxiety, knowing a team would now been involved in my baby's development. "I looked up at her, "What happens now?"

"Oh, I just date stamp it and stick it on the editor's desk," she said, turning her attention back to her mail.

Rather anti-climatic for seven year's work and half a head of grey hair, don't you think? I thought at least I'd get a handshake or a slap on the back...

I sighed and shuffled off, shoulders slumped, chin to the floor.

Ah well...disappointment didn't last long. We stopped for a lunch celebration at Isaac's Way in Fredericton, where I giggled and wiggled and downed a frosty mug of Rickard's White in spite of the cold outside.

For a little bit of time, it felt like the world had just become the sunniest, biggest place.


For a little bit of time, I felt as light as a feather. Now the editing begins...

8 comments:

Gwen Buchanan said...

My very best to you Deborah on coming out the other side of a very passionate journey of perseverance and determination... !!
We tip a Frosty one to you too!!

Shayla said...

Here's a big pat on the back. Hooray on finishing your book!!

Tina said...

Congratulations, Deborah! Glad we could help you celebrate!

One Woman's Journey said...

May this One Woman - say that she is proud of you.
I have a Callie dog - also - rescued her in October.

Diane said...

You certainly have a wonderful lightness of being. I know how you feel getting your manuscript completed and I wish you success as you have delivered it to the world of editors/publishers. Bravo for this huge accomplishment.

wendy said...

Love, love, love your story! You are so inspiring, and kinda made me a bit homesick too(:(
I think we have met at some time, but can't quite recall where.

wendy p.
(former Frederictonian)

Nancy J. Bond said...

Congratulations on completing your manuscript! Best of luck with the editing and publishing process. I, for one, want one hot off the press. :)

deb said...

How incredible!!

I can't even imagine the work.
I'm going to read here , but you said it was a biography?