Little details matter when you’re a writer. Not only in the prose, but in its presentation. My editor, Linda, and I spent hours over the past two nights and days working on the final revisions and formatting of the Midnight Radio covers. Change one little thing, and you have to start over. We also discovered the QR code on our last round of proofs pointed to the wrong place.
So we fixed that.
I tried using a Sharpie to cover the incorrect QR code on a proof so I could give it out as an advance reader copy.
Oops. It bled through to the last sentence of the novel.
Not a problem. That’s why we test these things. It’s also why we ordered a special pen for signing. Thank the Lord it finally got here, because I have a meeting with the librarians at the local library.
They just don’t know it yet.
Who needs more than three hours of sleep?
I go into my writing studio to retrieve the two advance reader copies I plan to give the wonderful ladies at the Childress Public Library. You’ll know the town as Henry in the novel.
I start sweating.
“What the hell? It’s hotter than Satan’s butt cheeks in here!”
My wife left the radiator heater on. She shares a corner of my writing office. She must have had an early morning meeting and caught a chill, because it’s 92 outside and 110 in my office.
I’m sweating all over the place as I try to steady my hand and write a quick note of appreciation for some very important ladies. The pen writes smoothly, the ink looks handsome, and it doesn’t bleed. I wish my handwriting were better, but I’m doing the best I can as sweat stings my eyes.
My hands might not work, but my mind feels “find.” Lol.
I load up the books and marketing materials and start the car.
The check engine light comes on.
“Fan-damn-tastic!”
I’m not upset. That can be dealt with later. I’ve reached the part I’ve been waiting for. The part Linda has been pushing me toward while working beside me.
It feels like I’m at the top of an advanced ski slope at Angel Fire, looking down at what appears to be a ninety-degree drop. Then, suddenly, I’m going over the edge. I look back and see Linda’s hands still outstretched from the push.
Midnight Radio is going out into the world.
This is the moment. The beginning. The final countdown.
Since this story first entered my brain, I’ve wanted to tell it as clearly as I can and present it in the most professional manner possible. I’ve gone to unprecedented lengths to bring it to the reader. I’ve sailed an ocean of experience and time to craft it the way it called for.
Now it’s time.
The drive to the library feels surreal, with the books riding in the back. I pass the convenience store in the novel. I pass the house where the elderly couple lived, not far from Isaiah’s loft. I’m driving over those gorgeous red brick roads, carrying a story that grew out of places right here.
The library has been part of my life since I was little. I remember my mother taking me there in second grade. I was so proud of my little green library card.
My mother was a voracious reader. She got library cards in all our names, including hers. Four cards, two books apiece. She would check out eight books under our names and read them all.
I wouldn’t be surprised if seven-year-old me still has a forty-year-old library fine.
If so, I’m so sorry.
At the library, I met assistant librarian Sara Burton. It was my first time meeting her, but my son had met her through the library’s annual summer reading program.
It was good to meet her. Then I noticed something I don’t normally feel.
I was nervous. Not a lot. Just a little.
Why?
I was having trouble recalling words and phrases while explaining the project. I wanted to explain that this wasn’t a vanity publishing project, but the words weren’t cooperating. I shook it off and kept going.
“What is the novel about?”
Uh. Uh. Shit!
Linda and I had just changed the synopsis. That little change cost us hours of reformatting the back cover. Hard work, but worth it.
You’d think after all that I could remember what the damn book was about.
“Uh, uh, two boys…”
I muddled through it.
You would have been proud of me. I regained my composure and found a few of my missing words. From her expression, I could see she appreciated what I was telling her.
Beyond anything I had to say about the novel, I knew the novel could speak for itself. I’ve been carefully crafting it for years. I’ve put the work into it.
I handed over the two signed advance reader copies and some marketing materials. We discussed a possible book signing, with all my royalties from the signing going to the library. We also talked about keeping it going online for three days afterward. People could visit the website, buy a signed copy, and my royalties from those sales would go to the library, too.
But first, I want them to read the book and get back to me.
Sara said she loves reading.
Then I knew I was speaking to my people.
I’ll keep you updated here about the book signing. Once we have it arranged, you’ll be able to buy a signed copy of Midnight Radio and support the Childress Public Library during the signing and for three days afterward.
You can pre-order the Kindle edition using the link below. I’ll announce when the paperback and hardcover editions are ready to order.