A Literary Birth Announcement

Yeah, yeah. Doom. Gloom. Depression. Anxiety. Dead animals. Sad children.

But all of that has been supplanted, my friends, because in my mailbox when I got home last night was this: Three copies of my book!

It's not in bookstores yet, I don't think. As you can see by that link, it's not due out for a couple more weeks. So, trust me, I'll be hawking it again. And again. And again and again and again.

Because, really. Nothing says Happy Thanksgiving, or Happy Chaunkah, or Merry Christmas like a book on bipolar disorder, don't you think? Well, I do.

And if you act now (or, for that matter, if you act later), you can receive a personalized, autographed bookplate from me, TC, except with my real and actual name on it! (Just email me at tinycoconut@sbcglobal.net with your name and address, and I'll send one out to you. No proof of purchase required. Hee!)

Two caveats: The cover was a done deal before I ever saw it, so any 'what were you thinking' comments should NOT be referred to me. (On the other hand, any 'what were THEY thinking' comments will be relished and nodded at in vigorous agreement.) And I did not get to proof the book after the author changes were put in, so the typos (I've already spotted two pretty egregious quotation-mark errors) are not my bad, either. On the other hand, if you hate the writing, well, that's all me.

God, I'm so excited about this; more than I thought I'd be, back nine, ten months ago when I was deep in the process of writing, and basically hating life. Now, I'm sitting here, holding the fruits of my labor, and they're awfully sweet. Also, for the record? This whole birthing thing is soooooo much easier when your baby comes off the printing press rather than through the slashed-open muscles of your abdomen. I'm just sayin'.