I was thinking the other day (specifically Saturday morning, when I woke up in this absurdly phenomenal mood, practically vibrating with joy) how my sense of gratitude multiplies when I think about all the amazing things that have been happening to my friends lately.
They have been writing so strong, finishing first drafts and final edits, sealing their deals, as it were. And their work is being published regularly in places that years ago they only dreamed they might write for. They are validated by their successes, and then they quickly turn that validation into ownership. They are coming into their own. I know we’re all constantly in a state of becoming (sorry, I get a little hippie in the morning) but from where I sit I feel like they’re almost there.
And when I see all this it takes any sort of joy I have about my own life and it doubles it, it triples it, it goes on and on, this effect. The creative family I’ve acquired in this life is as precious to me as blood.
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I found out last week I sold Russian rights to the book. I was talking to Emily, and asked her how the title might translate into Russian, and she sent me this email:
Еврей семьи в Чикаго
Yvrii Semyi v’Chicaga
=
Jew Family in Chicago
Other good book things: it’s on the top of Amazon’s Big Fall Books list preview, and there was a nice Library Journal review, and the best thing of all by FAR is that Molly Ringwald recorded my audio book. (I’m tracking it all over here.) It’s ridiculously exciting, but I am dazedly walking through it too. It’s a pleasant daze. I gave up drugs years ago, but this business, this good news business, is a new kind of dopamine.
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I haven’t written anything in a while except tumblr posts (although some extremely thoughtful tumblr posts) and a few notes here and there on the new book just to make sure my brain is still working beyond brainstorming advertising manifestos and client pitches and the like. I just have to do that check-in: you’re still there, right?
Use it or lose it. I remember in high school that was something boys used to joke about. They were talking about something dirty, masturbation or sex, or both, I guess.
As masturbatory as writing often is, I am pretty sure I am talking about something innocent and pure here.
I made my brain promise it would still be waiting for me when I got back from work in a few weeks. No formal legal papers were signed. It was all on a handshake.
