It’s been December 26-ish around here for the last few weeks.
You know that feeling when you wake up on December 26, look around your house, and see dried up, scattered pine needles on the rug, stale sugar cookies crumbled on the counter, and your fat pants have now become your everyday-if-I-hold-my-breath-and-don’t-ever-put-them-in-the-dryer pants?
All that anticipation. All that attention to detail. Over in a heartbeat after you watch your kids gleefully tear through gift wrap and empty the contents of the dessert table directly into their mouths.
And now you’re left with the aftermath, which is decidedly less fun.
That’s how I felt when I turned in the final revisions of the book. I looked around at my messy house, the list of business-related tasks I’d set aside until “after the book is done”, and the neglected blog and was all, “Eh. I need a nap.” For the next couple weeks I sort of rattled around the house, seeing clients but still pining for the days when I was burdened by deadlines and guilt over my extensive procrastination, as they gave me a sense of purpose, structure, and a whiff of self-importance.
I was all, “Start your next book, Tara. It’s not like you don’t know what it’s about.” But then, because I’m the most entitled author on earth in that I’ve never had to actually write a book and THEN pitch it to a publisher, I was all, “But I haven’t seen how the current book is going to sell. What if it doesn’t do well, and then I’ve written my second book and no one wants to publish it?”
Boo-hoo, Tara. You might have to put some effort into getting your next book published. Poor you.
But overwhelmed by the thought, I’d go back to watching reruns of One Tree Hill and surreptitiously downloading episodes of Downton Abbey off Amazon when I couldn’t fall asleep at night. You know, after a hectic day of not writing anything.
But, I seem to be coming out of my funk. I say this hesitantly, as my newfound brightness might be fleeting, based only on my marginal adjustment to living in a world without self-imposed deadlines.
I do have my next book outlined in my mind. Soon, I’m going to start writing it.
But in the meantime, let me tell you about three other books of which I’m ridiculously proud. This one, called Sucker for Love: True Tales About Loves Lost, Found, and Imagined, is co-authored by Mer of Tiny Bit of Crazy. You’ve seen her around these parts before. Her story, called “Milestones”, is one of my favorites. She’s bringing me an AUTOGRAPHED copy when she visits me next week, y’all. I hope she knows I want it autographed by all ten authors, not just her.
You can buy it here on Amazon, in paperback or in the Kindle version.
The second, called A Dude’s Guide to Babies: The New Dad’s Playbook, is authored by Richard Jones and Barry Robert Ozer. These are the dudes whom I got to speak with while I was a guest on NPR’s Charlotte Talks a few weeks ago. Funny, personable, and relatable. They also write a blog called “A Dude’s Guide“, so you can check that out too.
You can buy it here on Amazon, in paperback.
(Psst…here’s the link to Charlotte Talks. You know, in case you were wondering if I sound in real life like you imagine I do when you read my writing on the internet. Spoiler: I don’t. And I didn’t even say “ass.”)
The third book is called I Just Want to Pee Alone, and it’s a collaborative effort by a group of “mommy” bloggers. I know three of them personally, Johi Kokjohn-Wagner of Confessions of a Cornfed Girl and Ashley Taylor & Lisa Farnham from The Dose of Reality. It’s an awesome collection of amusing, relatable, and very raw tales from parenthood.
You can buy it here on Amazon, in the kindle version.
Check these books out, peeps. If you enjoy them, leave them a positive review on Amazon.