Didn't know publicists did that sort of thing, but I confess to being flattered and impressed. The outfit--Newman Communications, in Boston--knew the name of my book, knew the approximate publication schedule, and actually went to the trouble (well, Google) of finding my Web site in order to find me.
Presumably, this means the publisher has been leaking announcements through the grapevine.
It so happens I have been interviewing publicists, and while I would never call upon someone who accosted me--say, a telemarketer--this one I am tempted to consider.
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The occurrence is just the latest surprise I've experienced since completing my manuscript.
Over Thanksgiving, I saw my family for the first time since it's been done and since they've had a chance to read it. Everybody likes it, and is supportive, but I find that afterward I'm feeling a bit shaken. As if I stood in front of the class with my zipper open!
Is this what's in store for me, as others read my innermost secrets, thoughts, fears and dreams?
Well, if I didn't want people to know my perspective on life, I shouldn't have written about it for publication. Right? What did I expect?
Yet I think because it was family the reaction was particularly charged. I myself was nervous in a way I haven't been in decades (am I regressing? I pondered), and their comments-- "curious you left out such-and-such event," "I've been avoiding bringing this up, but since you mention it in your book, well, I've always wanted to say…"--felt unusually bare and frank and bold. Or maybe I was just reading extra dollops of Significance in them.
Not to worry. Soon the thing will be sent off to the publisher, and then I'll begin the publicity push in earnest. Onward and upward! But first, maybe I ought to call back this Newman fella…
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