Delayed (by you-know-what) a couple of months, I launched my debut novel in Canberra on Sunday, 29 May. To be blunt, I find these things exhausting – unless you’re a superstar, you organise the entire event yourself, which is a damn sight more time-consuming that it has any right to be. Venues*, in general, do not make it easy on the writer.
However, this is more than compensated for by seeing the faces of supportive friends and readers (and often both), joining me to celebrate the novel. After five years of blood, sweat, expletives, and re-writes, it’s out in the world, and this is awesome, surreal, and a huge relief. I came from a family where no-one had ever been to university, nor, for that matter, had any artistic inclination whatsoever. So the path to this point – a debut novel that came from a doctorate – was a tortured one, to say the least (though a love of books isn’t such a bad thing to have, as a guiding light).
I won’t carry on for too long, the photos* tend to say more than words. But I will say here (or paraphrase, anyway), what I said to the audience at the end of the launch.
Writing is a privilege, and I’m very lucky to be able to do so. But it also sucks. It is an occupation whose defining characteristics are rejection and failure. So when you do have a rare win, you have to celebrate. To all of those who attended on the day, and to all of you who read and enjoy my books: thank you.
*Though venue we ended up using – the Stonehouse Amaroo – was excellent. A great local pub owned by a bloke I went to high school with, Leigh. He was completely flexible in terms of timing and numbers, and the food was excellent.
* Thanks to Kat Clay and Cat Sparks for the photos.