Is there anything more satisfying than seeing your creation come alive? Not to sound like Dr. Frankenstein, but Mary Shelley had the right idea. I look at the cover of Compass Rose, and I want to throw up my hands and shout, “it’s alive!” to the thunder.
I don’t, of course. At least not in public. I have some dignity, but this is my first published book, so perhaps there’s a little bit of wiggle room. Dignity will have to be a little flexible, and I make no guarantees about what will happen when I hold Compass Rose in my hands for the first time.
I’m beginning to understand why authors and artists talk about their work with the same tone other people reserve for children. There’s a magic to it. If you put enough time, work, sweat, blood, and tears into a story, all of a sudden it starts thinking for itself. It develops agency, a little bit a free will, and just enough attitude to make you question why you’re writing it in the first place.
It’s also bittersweet. As happy as I am to see this cover, it is also a wake-up call. (That and the edits, which I got this morning). This is real. This is happening. These people, these crazy, passionate, determined women and men who have lived in my head (and in the heads of the few unfortunates I press ganged into reading earlier drafts) are about to go off on their own. I can’t help them. I can’t change their decisions or alter their courses. Their stories will soon be bound within this cover, and I just have to hope I gave them everything they needed to stay afloat.
My biggest worry?
I am afraid I did not use the phrase ‘release the kraken’ nearly as often as my nerdy little heart desired. I guess I’ll just have to content myself with making nautical puns as I approach the book launch. (Sea what I did there?)