First-night nerves
BY THE TIME THIS MAGAZINE is in your hands, I will be — after much huffing, straining and shedding of tears — a published author. My book Toxic: Women, Fame and the Noughties will be on bookshop tables and readerly nightstands across the country.
How do I feel right now? The honest answer is, sort of terrible. This anxiety is, I’m told, normal. No one feels good about publishing a book. Maybe that’s why it’s traditional to douse all the nerves in not-quite-chilled white wine at the launch event.
At least I’ve now undergone the ultimatecorrected my pronunciation and pacing. If I didn’t hate it after all that — and I didn’t — there’s a good chance the book is pretty good after all.
