I Don't Believe It

Oh gosh, Kissing Mr Wrong was officially published yesterday, and I forgot to mention it. That's what happens, darlings, when you have as many books published as moi.

And it sort of does. It sounds very grand but with the first book you think the world is going to stop and go WOW! when your book comes out. And then you discover it doesn't. Even if you're very lucky, as I was, and get picked out for all sorts of nice treats and stuff, like being in the bestseller charts at the supermarkets and WH Smiths and doing book signings around the country, essentially no one notices. And if they do notice, they're not that impressed. You soon learn that 'woman writes book' doesn't exactly set the world on fire.

And then there's the muddle over publication day. Reviews turn up in the papers and magazines at all sorts of odd times. The copies are in the shops before official publication day. You've been able to buy Kissing Mr Wrong on Amazon for about a fortnight, for example, I've had my copies for about three weeks. What you think of as The Day becomes blurred. In my case, it's even more blurry because the launch party is still a week away (on the 20th, do come). So instead I went to the RNA Summer Party, and had a jolly nice time and forgot all about publication day. It's probably best that way.

Come to the launch party for Kissing Mr Wrong, 6.30pm on 20th May at Waterstones, Milsom Street, Bath. All welcome, but please ring 01225 448515 to let them have an idea of numbers.

The Morning After.

It happened. It was good. Hungover.

Publication Day

It's here.

For the last few weeks I've been living an extended version of a Stephen King film. I'm walking through an empty house, knowing that there's something exceptionally scary around the corner. The tension is mounting, I'm terrified but somehow I can't bring myself to turn around, I edge onwards, getting closer and closer, wanting to go back, my palms are sweating, my heart is pounding, feeling sick with apprehension, I stop, but now it's edging towards me, I can hear it creeping nearer and nearer, I can't move, I can't go back, it's here, it's here.

Yes, it's Publication Day. My nearest and dearest have been aware of the looming presence for several months as my blood pressure rises to explosion levels over innocent topics such as 'have you seen my bag?' Friends and acquaintances have been aware for the last few weeks as I bludgeon them to attend the launch party (it's at Waterstones! In Bath - tonight - 7.00pm. Do come!). I tell them again and again, by email, phone calls, face to face, forgetting who has said yes in my anxiety that No One will be there.

Then there are the Amazon ratings. Don't get me started - or rather, can someone stop me from obsessively checking the ratings. Get the right hour, the right day and it's gratifyingly low (No 1 is obviously best of all), get the wrong moment and you're down in the five figures. It changes every hour, up and down the scale, so at any moment a poor author may be thrown into despair or elation, driving them to return in a manner reminiscent of B F Skinner's work with pigeons and erratic reinforcement.

I'm aware that some people might read this and think, yeah right, but at least she's being published. I don't want to whinge, I know I've been lucky. But I also know that, while the step from unpublished to published can seem impossibly vast, the step from published to unpublished is a short one. The only thing stopping me taking that short step is the sales figures. A year's worth of work, hopes and dreams, tied up in one day. Publication day. Today. Wish me luck.