Publishing a book is a lot like NASA launching a heavy, explosive hunk of metal into outer space. It looks and feels like the best idea ever until mission control begins the countdown and the special Red Button Of Doom is punched. In my case, I have exited the launch pad with little more than a few pages to protect me from the propulsion system strapped to my backside. I’ve hit the atmosphere, people, and trust me, I’m freaking out.
Wish I’d thought to bring a package of Depends.
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