Does anyone watch the TV show Castle? It's the best show, not only because of Nathan Fillion (I miss Firefly!) but because the character is a writer, and whoever is the "actual" writer knows of what he or she speaks.
They once had a show that took place during Richard Castle's book release day and they got it SO right.
He's trying not to think of the book, but everyone's talking about the book. His mother keeps going to bookstores and calling him to tell him no one's buying the book, or the book isn't there, or it's not placed where it's supposed to be.
I was laughing my head off. Mostly because at that moment it wasn't ME who was in "Book Release Panic."
My first western historical romance as Lori Austin, BEAUTY AND THE BOUNTY HUNTER was released today, and it's been personal panic for me for over a week now.
I spent the week before a release pretending that I'm not thinking about next week. I keep working on whatever book I'm writing at the time, which is usually a book or two removed from the one that's about to be released. But I don't get much done. I can pretend all I want that I'm not thinking about the upcoming release.
But I am.
Then the day of the release arrives and I can tell myself all I want that I'm not going to the bookstore to look for the book.
But I do.
Half the time it's not on the shelves yet. Or it's not placed where it's supposed to be. Or no one's buying it.
Sigh. Richard Castle and I have the same issues.
Here's a taste of the book that's keeping me up nights, BEAUTY AND THE BOUNTY HUNTER (Book #1 in the Once Upon a Time in the West series by Lori Austin) available TODAY (October 2, 2012)
Tall, dark and gifted, Alexi Romanov would command all eyes wherever he went. He was that pretty. Smooth, sun-kissed skin, wavy black hair, deep blue eyes and hands that could make a violin sing or a woman moan. He could also lie to an angel and cheat the pants off the Devil himself. He had taught Cat everything she knew.
Cat shoved him. Alexi stayed right where he was, although he did lift the knife from Cat’s neck just a little, probably afraid she'd skewer herself just for spite.
“Move,” she ordered.
“Make me,” he countered.
She lifted her knee, fast and sure. He blocked the attempt to unman him—permanently--with his hip; then he grasped her waist and yanked them together in an effort to preserve certain parts he would no doubt need later. For someone else.
Cat rolled her eyes, pretending boredom. At times, with him, it was the only weapon she had.
“What,” she repeated, voice tired now instead of angry, “are you doing here?”
"If I let you go, will you shoot me?”
She didn't point out he'd already taken her pistol. She should have known right then who he was. He'd once taught her how to disarm any fool who ventured too close with a gun. Snatch the barrel, while turning to avoid the bullet, then twist. The element of surprise, and quick hands, had thus far guaranteed every weapon Cat had tried it on had become hers.
“If I shot you, Alexi, I wouldn’t have a friend left in this world.”
“I’m not your friend.” He stepped back.
As Alexi moved away he ran one finger along her forearm, that single touch reminding Cat of a hundred and one nights in his bed. She’d come to him broken, bleeding inside, and he’d mended her somehow. Not completely, but enough to go on. She’d begun touching him back as payment; she’d stopped touching him for the same reason.
What do you panic about? And what do you do to stave off that panic?
I've learned to give in to the urge to visit every bookstore in my town and the next. Once I see my baby on the shelves a few times, I calm down.
A little . . .