I just lived through my nightmare of the week. And survived!
Last week I was invited to speak on a local radio show. The host of the show asked my publisher for a copy of my book so that she could read it ahead of time and know what to ask me in the interview.
My publisher sent her a bound set of galleys, instead. You see, as I mentioned earlier, the printing of the book has been delayed. To be honest, that’s probably at least partially my fault. I made a lot of last-minute changes, including some entire story switch-outs, during the last galley review. So they had to re-edit everything. There wasn’t even time for me to review the bluelines. To be absolutely honest with you (like y’all know I like to be), I’m not even sure what exactly the book is going to have in it when it comes out. Because they didn’t accept all my rewrites – just “most” of them. So… I won’t know what it says until next week’s show, when I see the first rush-printed advance copies, along with everyone else.
So, last week’s nightmare was that I’d show up at next week’s show and find out, there on the stage, that the book was full of the wrong words. I literally had that dream – that I was preparing for the big reading and then saw that my book was full of pornographic paintings and pretentious literature written by someone else.
This week’s nightmare has been that, as one of the very first people to read my book in its final form, the host of today’s radio show would dislike it.
All the way to work this morning, I idly wondered what I would do if it became apparent to me that the host didn’t like my book. How would I defend my work? Or would I just have to accept that it wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea? I finally told myself to quit being so silly and insecure.
Two women were waiting in the studio while the host rushed around. The women told me their names, but not why they were there. One of them I’d actually met before, although I don’t think she remembered.
In the very few minutes before we went on air, I saw one of the women skimming through my bound galleys. I made a weak joke about hoping that she’d say favorable things about it. She indicated, at that point, that she most likely would not.
Oh my gosh. She began to tell me why she didn’t like my book. I began to try to talk to her about it. But there was no time. The host ran in and we went live.
The host introduced me. Then, she told me that she had found my book “difficult to read.”
Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.
The other woman was her sister. (The third woman left while I was reading my first piece. She never said anything, so I don’t know if she didn’t like the book, either, or not.) The host had brought her sister on the show to lend supportive comments on why my book was not enjoyable.
Oh… Oh my gosh.
The thirty-minute program went by in a time-warping blur of soundwaves and emotion. I can’t explain to you what happened. I said what I had to say, but can’t remember what it was.
Because, when nightmares happen to you in real life, you can either cower under the covers and cry, or you can… You can just do what you have to do until the alarm clock goes off. You can sink or swim, basically. All I do know is that, when it was over, the host hugged me and her sister promised she’d go back and read my whole book for real this time. As you can imagine, I was relieved. These are women I respect, and their opinions meant a lot to me.
The radio station’s former general manager called the host to tell her it was her best interview ever. A listener called to tell me he couldn’t wait to read my book. And then I had to get in my car and hurry back to work.
I won’t know anything until I hear the archived MP3 of the program. Y’all listen to it, too, and let me know what you think.
