The Dog is Fine!

Kristin Owens Survives a hurricane book launch and thrives

It’s been a week. A WEEK! Technically, I am eight days post-launch of my debut Elizabeth Sails. But before I get into the details, let’s discuss something.

Me at the Tattered Page in Denver!

Typically, authors describe book publishing with a pregnancy analogy. I’ve never been pregnant, so I can’t make that comparison. But I can describe the sensation of having a project so dear to me, it physically hurts most days. For the last six years, I’ve felt a small pebble in my stomach morph into a bowling ball. Some days it bumps up against my old ovaries, reminding me of long-ago cramps. Other days it snuggles against my digestive system, resulting in Pepto and Tums. Oftentimes it rolls over my heart causing grief and lamenting woe. But most days, it spins around in my head causing headaches and constant worry.

Until last Tuesday

On my launch day, my hypothetical bowling ball disappeared. Poof. Gone. Like someone had finally excised this constant object of discomfort from my physical being. From the moment I saw Elizabeth Sails in a bookstore, it vanished. I could breathe freely.

And this may be my biggest takeaway from the whole publishing process: Set your goals low enough to trip over. Because it could be worse. Really, I’m surprised I can formulate words into sentences because the previous week made my habitual bowling ball feel like a marshmallow.  Everything had gone to shit.

Specifically:

·      A category-5 hurricane blew in to potentially cancel launch plans eight states away.

·      Those lovely business-class airline tickets purchased six months to celebrate in style were cancelled and my husband threw me and the dog into the car to drive 1,992 miles to Colorado.

·      As we loaded the car, the a/c went out again, prompting a band-aid fix until we returned.

·      We drove for thirty-eight hours which is terribly fun in your 20’s but a complete nightmare in your 50’s.

·      Subway is not a food group.

·      After finding a kennel to house the dog, we got a call three days later informing us he was foaming at the mouth and needed to be picked up NOW.

·      I received a text from my parents they were moving into our house because theirs was in a flood evacuation zone and mom brought all her fostered cats along too.

·      My husband threw his epic Colorado craft beer party and I didn’t feel like drinking because I was exhausted.

·      The time scheduled to visit family and friends was cut drastically short because we had to drive back to Florida.

·      On the road, I ate Sonic onion rings for dinner and almost died.

·      I forgot to submit this blog post in a timely fashion.

The dog is fine. I’m not sure about me

It’s all okay

Again, managing expectations is key. And if they’re woefully low, the only direction is up. So, after all this nonsense happened, when my launch party arrived, I was jaded, expecting the very worst. And when it exceeded the bookseller’s expectations, I just shrugged and said terrific. And when my entire critique group showed up to support me, amazing. And at Denver’s famed Tattered Cover, when all their copies sold out, it was outstanding. And to hear the events coordinator remark, “You sold more than J.K. Rolling when she debuted Harry Potter here (note: 4 copies),” I was duly flabbergasted.

Trust me – it’s all good. All of it. Even the bad stuff. And whether a bowling ball or hurricane, just keep moving forward.

I’m currently driving back to Florida in time for the next event in thirty-six hours. The sun is currently shining in all eight states. We’re getting decent gas mileage while eating potato chips for lunch. The dog has stopped coughing and hacking up foam. My parents have moved back to their own home with their familiar remote control. Our house is intact with working internet and a/c. We’re listening to my newly released audiobook to pass the time. And it’s great. No rain in

Elizabeth Sails is now available! The 2024 Debutantes are grateful for all the love and support we’ve received.