It’s a big day today, a day worthy of celebration. I decided that on this particular Monday, I’ll do whatever the heck I want.
I want sleep.
This says less about me than about the fact that I worked overtime this weekend, and events left me with about half my normal snooze time. I wish I could say I was one of those people who could go on for days without sleep. In truth, I’m jealous of those people—I could sure get a lot more done, getting by on three hours a night. But I can barely go hours without sleep.
Today (early Monday, as I write this) is book launch day. It’s my seventh book, or ninth if you count the anthologies I’ve been in, but it’s as exciting as the first one. Maybe more: This is the first time I’ve had a solid, definite book release date. Whiskey Creek Press only gave me an approximate date for my three works with them, and in those cases the books went up for sale before I expected them to. With our self-published works I could just announce the launch whenever the order was ready, which cut down on the anticipation. Just the same, having a new book come out never gets old.
You know what gets old? Sleep apnea. Insomnia. Twelve hour shifts.
(Not insomnia during twelve hour shifts, mind you.)
Anyway, Arcadia gave me a concrete launch date: It says in my contract that any book in a customer’s hands before then will spontaneously combust. Customers hate that.
But thanks to preorders, early Monday Amazon rankings had me at #215 in state and local history books, which is really good, right? Right? So I think I deserve a solid nine hour sleep, followed by maybe a five hour nap.
Let’s face it, I was never a party animal. The music that gets my heart beating was composed by John Williams. My best-ever all-nighter was when I read Arthur C. Clark’s Rendezvous with Rama in one sitting. I get a hangover after drinking cough syrup.
Don’t get me wrong: I might still run uptown for a celebratory pizza. Sure, it could put me into a food coma—but that’s exactly what I’m going for.