Yeah, that's right. Today was supposed to be the day I celebrated my debut novel hitting shelves. Egmont USA had it ready to be a pretty fabulous leading title.
But obviously that's not what happened. Amazon still has it listed as releasing today, and you can still "preorder" it so it can not show up two days later, even if you have Prime shipping.
I promised myself I would only be sad for five minutes this morning, then I would get over it and move on with my day. That worked in tandem with the rush of teaching a class of nine-year-old maniacs that quickly became the focus of all of my brain power.
As insane and stressful as teaching can be, it also effectively distracts you from any and everything that might be wrong.
But now I'm on my way home and back to wondering how many minutes of sadness I must endure before I get over this nonsense feeling.
My book will come out next year, and it will be something very special, but the truth is I'm just not cool with that sometimes.
Sometimes you can understand why something happened and really not blame anyone, and still want to shout how much it sucks.
Maybe five minutes isn't long enough. Maybe you can't force a time limit on sadness.
I'm going to look at my big box of forsaken Egmont ARCs and realize that that version of the story will never see the light of day, and I will know that that's okay, because an even better version is on the way next year.
Until then, I can lay in a bed of Egmont ARCs and cry until my wife tells me to stop being a baby because I have more important things to do.
Then she'll probably give me a hug because she does understand.