X is For eXcited

Excited – Enthusiastic. Sexually aroused.

 The former definition, not the latter. Not for this particular blog anyway.

It’s about the book cover for my soon to be released memoir, Loveyoubye. I haven’t said much about what’s been happening on the road to publication with She Writes Press. That’s because there hasn’t been that much to report because I’m only on the first step: the book cover. A biggie, I realized from all my sleepless nights wondering how it would turn out. So here’s how the process works: they make a suggestion–a woman walking on the beach, memoir-like, they said–NO. NO. NO. So not what my book is about. Please God, don’t let me have to settle for that. And then they get my input and then a rough rendering of my ideas. Yow! I don’t know people, but I’m cautiously eXcited about the final product.

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Damn The Torpedoes!

Okay, so I’ve been quite remiss in posting to my blog for the past . . . Wow! has it been three weeks already? Quelle horreur! (Haven’t a clue how I knew that meant “that’s terrible/how awful!” Mr. Oppenheimer, Kitwe High’s French teacher’s doing?)

The truth is I’m not always thrilled about blogging, well, once I get in there and do it and hit my stride, I soar and it feels so good, but getting there can be agonizing. However, this time I’ve got a good excuse for being otherwise occupied. I’ve been consumed with getting my memoir, Loveyoubye ready for publication with She Writes Press. It was such a relief to finally make that decision. And so far I’m finding they’re a class act. Plus I like the idea of having their “stable” of writers, with whom I can compare notes. (I haven’t done that yet, but it’s available.)

I had to get an author photo taken–painful–write a bio, a book description, and come up with ideas for the book cover. The latter, my friends has been interesting. Once I primed the pump, all these ideas for images came up. The book cover is a major deal.

But here’s an even bigger issue, committing to this final stage of getting my story out there brought back all those worries I had in the beginning and along the way. Will my story, the writing of which was a life raft at the time, hurt anyone, and do I honestly want the world to see me naked and vulnerable? It’s an uncomfortable place to be. But I find myself pressing forward. Is it my Taurean nature at work here, to persist because that’s what’s next? Or is there something else? Do I need to lay it on the line because someone else, maybe just one person can relate, can see herself, even himself in my experience, and feel a kinship and find comfort and hope? Lofty ideals, I know, but I believe that if you’re turning yourself inside out to find your own truth, you will touch someone else.

So. Damn the torpedoes. Off I go.