Furiously Happy
“Not even enough to demand a stitch. But it wouldn’t stop dripping unceasingly from my swollen foot.
I was in New York in January, to record the audiobook version of my soon-to-be-released first book and to attend a prelaunch lunch held to publicize my book. This is fairly normal in book publishing but I was new to it and I was terrified on both accounts. The invitations to the luncheon were nicer than my wedding invites and everyone came. People from The New York Times, CBS, O magazine, and oth...ers I didn’t even know. My agent and publisher did their best to keep me unaware of the importance of this luncheon, as they both knew that my anxiety disorder could be crippling and I’d already warned them (only half joking) that I might spend the lunch hiding under the table and they would have to just find a way to explain that writers are notoriously eccentric. And they are. But I knew I was more than that.
Mentally ill.
It’s a phrase that once scared me, but now I wear it like an old jacket, comfortable but ugly.MoreLess
I was in New York in January, to record the audiobook version of my soon-to-be-released first book and to attend a prelaunch lunch held to publicize my book. This is fairly normal in book publishing but I was new to it and I was terrified on both accounts. The invitations to the luncheon were nicer than my wedding invites and everyone came. People from The New York Times, CBS, O magazine, and oth...ers I didn’t even know. My agent and publisher did their best to keep me unaware of the importance of this luncheon, as they both knew that my anxiety disorder could be crippling and I’d already warned them (only half joking) that I might spend the lunch hiding under the table and they would have to just find a way to explain that writers are notoriously eccentric. And they are. But I knew I was more than that.
Mentally ill.
It’s a phrase that once scared me, but now I wear it like an old jacket, comfortable but ugly.MoreLess
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