After the glow wore off a bit, and after AK Dad and I had more than a few glasses of wine to celebrate, paperwork started to flow into my inbox with the speed of an Alaska snowstorm. Questions, mostly, about me, about the book, about people I know who might talk about the book, and places that might sell the book; all succinctly disseminated in a collection of University of Alaska Press formatting that I, of course, have already screwed up in my attempt to complete.
One reason I chose to approach UA Press is their desire to engage authors in the publishing process every step of the way, from initial marketing to some level of publicity and selling those books.
Hours and hours later, I'm navigating the process of my life as it stands to be for the next month. As I did while I was actually writing the manuscript, I've carefully (mostly) scripted my days.
Typically, I write in one-hour blocks, two if I've got a particularly hot deadline. But I write, every single day. I feel guilty if I don't, which may or may not be normal...
Also questionable is the fact I set my alarm to chime for a break, then I get up from my desk and do stuff. What stuff?
Laundry.
Cooking (that's a damn fine pork shoulder in the oven, right there).
Running with dogs.
I go about the business of living for 30 minutes or so, then set the alarm again and head back to the inner world of wordsmithing.
Repeat.
