But, what exactly does it taste like? It depends on my level of looming panic. It’s like that bubblegum that Violet insisted in chewing in Mr. Wonka’s factory. First it’s the taste of 8 years of frustrated doubt, which is not unlike stale coffee from a Waffle House at 3 o’clock in the morning. Then, flashes of delicious promise…like a soft-serve vanilla ice cream that’s been dipped in the mysterious chocolate shell, and the vanilla’s just starting to melt through a wee chocolate crack.
Wait. I went from frustrated coffee straight to ice cream? I’m not communicating very well here. How could I? We are SO close to the book going to press! It’s almost all I can think about!
The cover art has been approved. Prices are set. Just moments ago, I approved and released my galley corrections. Essentially, it’s really and truly all out of my hands now, and resting in the care of some very nice people down in Indiana. Will they be able to get my 1st run printed and returned to me before this book signing on 9/25? I have no idea right now. I’ll know more tomorrow, but…to get to tomorrow I still have to chew and blow bubbles through nine months worth of I-Quit-My-Job-To-Go-On-A-Fool’s-Adventure (and anyone who’s ever had an ulcer knows exactly what that tastes like), and four months of Well-This-Is-Another-Fine-Mess-I’ve-Gotten-Us-Into (which used to taste like old gin, but…I’m trying to block that memory). Will sleep even come tonight? Then, there’s Willy’s sentiment:
“Chewing gum is really gross,
Chewing gum I hate the most.”
I say, Amen to that.