Okay, not a date with a woman. Or a man, for that matter. I’m talking about something much more interesting and unnerving and exciting and momentous – at least to me.
I have a publication date. For Cry Baby, my new novel. The one I talked about in my previous blog post. It’s happening. It’s going to appear. People are about to buy it (you are, aren’t you? Please tell me you are).
In some ways I’m more nervous about this book than I was for its predecessors in the series. On its success or otherwise lies the fate of Callum Doyle, the protagonist I have developed and evolved over four novels. I like him. He’s not me – he’s not anyone I know – but for all his faults and mistakes he’s a lovable guy. I don’t really want to end his all-too-brief fictional life. You readers out there – you have the power to keep him alive. A heavy responsibility, I know, but I have faith in you.
People keep telling me not to worry. Those kind enough to have agreed to review it are saying extraordinarily nice things. It’ll soar, they tell me.
But I am all too aware that the publishing game is hugely unpredictable. I have done all I can, by writing the best book I can, but there are some things over which I have no control. One of those is luck, and only time will tell if fortune is on my side.
So here we go. The wheels are in motion. The final version of the book has been sent to my agent tonight, just waiting to be released into the wild. We shall see whether it is strong enough to fend for itself, or whether it will be devoured by the competition.
And the date we find out? Wednesday, April 16. Less than a week away.