I was so high during the book launch on adrenalin and joy – and relief – that the whole thing is a blur. I do remember how my heart leapt, as I approached the beautiful Nicholas Hoare bookstore, to see my books lined up in the window. And then book buyers started to arrive and I sat signing and signing, and then I spoke and read, and Paul Soles and Kate Trotter performed magnificently from Gordin’s plays, and I stood on the bookstore balcony looking down at so many friendly faces. And then we continued partying at home, more friendly faces, more blur, more signing. More than a hundred books were sold that night, and I wrote something in most of them, but what, I have no idea.
The next day I went into a wierd frenzy, decided I had to sell my house, began real estate dealings, and was told firmly by several friends that I was suffering from postpartum depression and should calm down. Which I did. Now, still in my house, I’m enjoying the interesting reality of my creation floating about out there – what is the child up to now? It had its first review, which has appeared on several websites – favourable, three stars out of four, though at the end advising readers “with short attention spans” that they should “pass on this one.”
Most importantly, I have started work on something else. A very small something, but it’s a step into the future, leaving this part of the past behind. Time to move on.
