There is a tiny time that is otherworldly – just between the euphoria of collecting the print copies, and receiving messages of reactions after the first orders are fulfilled. An absolute vacuum, eye of the storm stillness filled with a torrent of emotions. ‘It’s a kind of grief’. Thank the gods for having other creatives in my closest circle of friends who have been there, who get it, who have occupied that empty space.
In that time, there is the sense of disbelief that the collection is now actually ‘real’. After months of editing, formating, drafting, proof-reading, angsting over the tiniest of details, and that final decision to action the run – they exist. But it’s also over…for a pause. Until they find their reader and the dialogues open up, and the real reason we do this begins. I’d say it’s about a week. And I absolutely covert it.
To sit. Still. And be with those books just on the cusp of letting them free, is one of the greatest gifts of the whole process. There are tears. Plenty. Hot balming tears of pride, of the grief of losing that small hours companion, of accomplishment and wonder. That this is true. This is mine.
And this time it was compounded by doing two. Concurently.
‘You might as well make a playlist, while you’re already so emotional,’ Ms Gray, also now restless.
‘Ok, fine. Fine…’ I know who calls the shots around here.
So – here it is the Wilding of this Hagstone Heart playlist. Hot-tear compiled in the vacuum week. We’ll work on one for Breathing Without Oxygen soon.
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