Yesterday, promptly at 3 p.m., I dropped off my manuscript, “Searching for the American Dream in Frog Hollow,” at Wesleyan University Press. It was 264 pages, close to 600 foot notes, and a whole lotta headache to get done in time.
I have been working on the damn thing for a year and a half, and I’m pretty sure Real Authors don’t come sliding in home, as I did, with arms akimbo, trailing random pages.
But I did it. Since I moved to work in Hartford 30 (Jaysus) years ago, I’ve liked that neighborhood, and now I’ve written a love letter to it. For one day (today), I am going to feel good about that, and not worry about the editing, or the photo permissions I still have to get, or any of that other stuff that will soon rise to bite me on the leg.
For now, for today, I’m going to feel good that I did it. And I’m going to make yet another promise to myself to never attempt a book again. Ever.
(For this, my last-ever book, I’m kind of leaning toward the above photo as the cover. It was snapped by the wonderful Hartford photographer, Tony DeBonee, which is pronounced just as you’d imagine. I have another one that’s a contender that was taken around the turn of the last century, but there’s something about this one…we’ll see. In the end, I’ll just make suggestions and let the professionals do the work.)