It happened kind of suddenly, last spring.
Sam was only eight months old. I thought, how am I possibly going to do this?
I thought, I have no idea what I'm doing.
But I also thought, this is what I've always wanted.
And I was happy. So deliriously happy.
And then I totally and completely got my ass kicked. But in the end it was worth it.
And now I can finally share the news.
Like J.D. Salinger, David Sedaris, and Tyra Banks before me...
I have written a book.
Now, I know what you're thinking. This is not my oft-promised autobiography Unabrow: Confessions of a Hirsute High Schooler, nor is it my oft-dreamed of Billy-Allison Melrose Place fan fiction bodice-ripper, 50 Shues of Hay (it takes place in a barn).
No, Five Summers is a good, old-fashioned young adult coming-of-age novel about four best friends from summer camp. I like to think it's the kind of thing Judy Blume might have written if she subscribed to UsWeekly and used the phrase "douchebag." It's (hopefully) funny and (definitely) angsty and ON AMAZON ALREADY, which means it's real. Oh my God it's real. I wrote a book*. Jesus fuck.
And I guess I can't say things like "Jesus fuck!" when twelve year-olds start reading my writing. But I don't care. Shit, you guys. Fuck. I'm gonna get it all out now.
*Longtime readers might recall that this is technically my second book. But When Cathy Learned Sign Language had a very limited print run. So this is big for me.
I have a lot to say about it, but pretty soon you'll be sick of hearing about it, so I'm going to save any more gushing/expletives for later.
In the meantime, if you have ever truly loved me (or even just kind of liked me), please spread the word. And if and only if you are so moved, please like or pre-order it on Amazon so that the Amazons (not the all-female warriors of Greek myth, just, you know, Internet people) think I'm the next J.K. Rowling, trapped in the body of a woman who sometimes, after a few glasses of wine, looks disturbingly like Vinnie from Doogie Howser.
I'm sure I'll do a give-away on the blog, too, and obviously I'll be buying up hundreds of copies of the book myself, so that I can shoot them out of a tee-shirt cannon in Times Square like a modern-day Mary Tyler Moore.
Maybe, just maybe... I'm gonna make it after all?