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Holding My Own Book in My Hands
And sleeping with it like a baby.
Did I cry when I opened the box of books that roughly represents the past decade of my life? Not right away. My boyfriend dutifully held the camera, knowing I needed a video. It is neither my instinct nor my desire to document these moments visually. I hate looking at myself on camera, I hate the performance inherent in being filmed, and I extra hate feeling like I need to look acceptably attractive or whatever. But writers, especially debut authors with no name for themselves, are expected to produce “content.” And a video of an author opening her box of final copies is classic writer content.
Ok, so I was going to make a video!
I’ve always wondered, watching these videos from other authors — videos meant to appear spontaneous and off-the-cuff (the books are here!) — if they put on a special outfit and makeup in order to make them, or if people actually, like, wear jeans on an average day at home. Looking at the unopened box — my box, my hard work, my heart and soul manifested into a very heavy cardboard block — I decided I would not let concerns about “content” ruin this for me. I did not put on makeup or change my shirt or put extra product in my hair (though I did throw it up, this felt necessary), then I herded my family into my tiny office, and I opened my box. It only took a quick glance to know…
