Friday, August 3, 2007

The book is born

Today is the day. I am sitting in a coffee shop overdosing on caffeine while my son is at technology camp. Can you say BUZZ? The location of the camp is too far for me to contemplate going home in the interim. After this, if the traffic gods lay tracks for us, my son and I will zoom over to watch my daughter in her preview performance at drama camp. I write these details to say that this day is not about me, and nor should it be. SUMMERS AT BLUE LAKE was my book for six years. Now it belongs in the hands of the readers, while I go about my business. No book release parties--which is fine. I had a huge party for myself last August when I quit my day job. Now that was an occasion to celebrate.

I am not trying to downplay this day. Far from it. I have already spent my morning marveling at the people I have met along this path. For that alone, the journey has been fruitful. Each step has brought an array of talented, inspiring souls. Some I have known only over a short conversation, but the connection was there. The writing of this book has brought others in my life--associations that I wholeheartedly feel will remain for life. And then there are those relationships that have been rekindled. Old friends have heard the news and made an effort to contact me. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the support I have received from my community, both the physical place in which I live and the greater creative collective. I look forward to more of this as readers react to the book.

Now that the book is out of my hands, I ask two things of its readers. If you feel so inclined, please leave feedback with the online booksellers (Amazon, B&N etc). Secondly and most importantly, I ask that you take a moment and read the acknowledgements at the front of the book. I can't say enough about those whose names are there. Even before SUMMERS AT BLUE LAKE was under contract, I began to think about who I would thank because those people have been so instrumental in my writing life. A few names are missing and I would like to mention them here (and hopefully in the acknowledgements of future novels): Elena Nazzaro and Michelle Abeyta who gave me daily doses of creative encouragement; my godmother Jane Markert who taught me perseverance and compassion; and Heather Auman whose friendship has transcended the goofy, school girl alliance of the early eighties and matured into a sisterhood of the soul. Thank you, all.

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