Eons ago, I had an idea. An idea birthed from food poisoning and a late night editing junket but an idea nonetheless.
From the moment the then title, FUCK NOIR, burst from my lips I became invested and attached to a project that has taken two years to bring to fruition. My mind is full of frozen images from along the way. So many stills from the movie of my life devoted to pitches, cajoling, editing, burst bubbles, bubbles reborn and one epiphany after another.
I am a very, very lucky girl.
This last two years have been hard. So hard.
I lost my dad and for a long time lost hope and my will. Weeks would slip through my fingers without my noticing. When I came out of my cave (a cave I still spend a lot of time in), lo and behold, my people were still there and so was this damned book. I'd started out hoping to put into my dad's hands when it was done.
I've dedicated it to him instead.
Next month on November 20, EXPLETIVE DELETED will hit the streets. There are many last minute things to do, reviews bad and good coming in, signings to set up and a launch party to plan (anyone up for a "come as your favorite Banned Book character" theme?) and I am riding around the rim of sanity on a unicycle.
Think about it. After you sell the book to a publisher, edit it and get it to the printers, you're not done. You have to sell the fucker to the people! To the bookstores, to the libraries, to that guy down the street with the hairy back who for some bizarre reason mows his lawn backwards!
And you have to go on television!
I mean I do!
The Babbling Brook of Frolics and Fucks!
Then it all begins. It will be me, multiple cans of Diet Rockstar and an uncaptured audience. An audience I must capture.
Because I am a Warrior of Words. And my War brings Wisdom to the dark corners of my mind. There I find myself, still sitting under the table where I went to hide during my ninth birthday party. I hated, just hated, having all the attention paid to me. All those eyes focused on me.
There is no table for me to hide beneath now.
I have to take the shy little girl inside by the hand and step out, ever so briefly, into a spot light.
Wish me luck.