All the books I currently need to send went out this morning. The AREs Del Rey asked me to sign are signed and on their way back. I have dedicated time to revise Man Bites World this week, and the more I work on it, the more I like this book again. Also, the on-publication payment for Child of Fire arrived today. Nothing like a few thousand dollars to lift your spirits, eh?
Then why am I so fucking miserable?
I’ve spent the last several days in a fog, unable to concentrate or exert myself in any serious way. It’s taken me a while (as it always does) to acknowledge that I’m depressed. Not only that, but I’m depressed with my family on the other side of the country.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I always have a bit of depression when I finish a project, and having a book on actual shelves in actual stores is pretty much the finish of this project. The thrill of the early release has subsided as the book slid back in the Amazon.com sales rankings like a Yugo on an icy hill.
And, worse, I feel like crap. I have some kind of stomach bug, and it’s making me weak and queasy.
But now that I’ve named it, the depression is going to recede. That’s what it has always done in the past, at least. Tomorrow I’ll have more control.
Time for bed.
Mirrored from Twenty Palaces. You can comment here or there.