Countdown to Launch

My book release is tomorrow, and the range of emotions is beyond my expectation. Words I typed on my Surface—in my home office, on airplanes, and in hotel rooms, ideas snatched while walking to work, sitting in a car, lying in bed—were edited, scrutinized, deleted, re-written, moved, and debated. Over time, they created the story I wanted to tell, creating an elusive, intangible thing: a work of art. A cohesive whole that takes readers on a journey, that hopefully evokes excitement and emotions and wonder. After more edits and packaging and strategizing, it is now going out into the world.

I’m scared it will do horribly. I don’t know if people will enjoy it, if the positive trend its been experiencing will continue. Of course, the coronavirus crisis has interfered with marketing and book signing plans, which makes it even more challenging. While I think The Price of Safety will do well, there are so many factors that can make or break its success. (Quick side note: do you know how Tom Clancy made it big? Back in the 1980s, President Reagan was asked at a random press conference what book he was reading. He responded that he was reading a “clever” novel no one had heard of called The Hunt for Red October. Boom, Clancy was on his way. A different week could’ve produced a different answer, launching someone else’s career instead.)

I’ve already benefited from my efforts. I’ve received some great reviews so far, and I have over 1,000 people who have requested The Price of Safety in the Goodreads giveaway (with well over 900 of them adding my book to their “To Read” list).

It’s more than that, though. The encouragement and excitement of my friends and family have been worth more than anything. And I’ve received the same reaction from associates, strangers, people who have no reason to say anything encouraging or positive.

I don’t say this to toot my horn. I’m sharing what I’m going through so you can experience it as well. It isn’t all positive. My PR firm was turned down by four different L.A. stores for readings before the coronavirus was on anyone’s radar.  I’m sure I will get negative book reviews. That’s the risk and frustration of art: no two people look at it the same, and while someone will love the story, someone else will loathe it. I’m sure you could pick any classic piece of literature, from Shakespeare to Hemingway to Fitzgerald, and someone has trashed it.

At times, I’m amazed I created this story. Maybe it’s like childbirth, where the details fade over time, and while yeah you know the logistics, the actual emotions and physical feelings are hazy. (And yes, I compared writing to childbirth. At times it can be painful, scary, and you shit yourself a little.) But while I’m amazed at what I’ve created, at the same time I see flaws in the novel. Areas I could’ve done better.

That’s the challenge. Something I really care about, that I created with love and hope and effort, may never be good enough, even when it becomes magical. And yes, in a way it is magical because holy crap, I made this thing. And like a child, I am now sending it out for others to experience for better or worse.

Whatever happens, I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. I’ve been writing a long time. I can’t count the number of days, weeks, years I’ve spent creating, honing, struggling to improve my skills. To make something good enough. Maybe this novel will fall short…though I don’t think so. The Price of Safety is the accumulation of not only three years of work—creating, writing, editing—but twenty years of effort.

I hope my child succeeds in the world, that its voice sings. I know I’m biased, but I think it’s beautiful.