My first book releases in 65 days. 9 weeks. Around Thanksgiving.
I'm in a no-man's land between contract and debut release. Technically, I'm not a published author. I will be published on 19 November and forevermore after that. But I've been in a gray area for the sixteen months since I signed a contract. Not quite published. Not really un-published.
I'm sitting in a cafe, about to eat my veggie omelet, with my laptop going.1 People ask what I'm doing and I say I'm an author. And there's a hesitance in me to say that out loud because it doesn't seem quite true. Yet.
In a couple of months, that slight hitch in my statement will go away. I'll claim the job. I'll have information about my numbers.2 I'll have reviews, fans, detractors, and other such authorial stuff.
Last night, I finished my fifth full-length novel. I wrote it several years ago, but the story needed a skilled, experienced writer to write it, and that wasn't what I was several years ago. So I put it down and waited. This summer, I picked it back up. This go-round, I did the characters and their pain justice. And this time, it might get published because I'm an...author now.
Okay, my omelet's getting cold. And so is my coffee. Plus, with all of my current projects completed and/or in the publishing assembly line, I'm ready to dream up a new idea.
1 Always, I have my laptop with me when I'm not working at my day job.
2 For most authors, your numbers are "how many units sold" or "how much in sales". But there are other numbers too, like "how many twitter followers" or "how many books under contract." I'll go from caring about words to caring about numbers too.