Nothing but Ghosts ARCS

Little by little, it happens. An image floats in, a voice makes itself heard, a story evolves and devolves and is thwarted and is found, and an agent says, Keep writing, then an editor steps in, and then questions are raised, and some brilliant someone designs a cover, and, finally (it seems impossible at times, it seems like it won't happen) a book gets made.

But none of it seems real to me until the galleys are in hand—advance readers copies. Today ARCS for Nothing but Ghosts were dropped (I heard the sound, I went running) onto my front porch. Ten of them. Two of which I mailed at once, one of which I drove to the local library, seven of which now sit nearby. Vivian (hipwritermama) said, "Take a photograph, Beth." She said, in other words, Take a moment. Celebrate.

Why am I always afraid to celebrate?

This time I won't be.

A glass of chianti at the ready.