12 Days in Counting

With only twelve days until my book launches, I find myself feeling a strange sense of numb anticipation.

For a long time, publishing felt like a distant finish line. Something that existed far enough in the future that I didn't need to think about what came after it. Yet now the book is finished. The various formats are uploaded and waiting. The cover is done. The website is built. The social media posts are scheduled. There is very little left to do except wait.

For the last six months, I have posted every day across Instagram, TikTok, Pinterest, Facebook, and Threads. Some days it felt exciting. Some days it felt like shouting into the void. Yet somehow, through hundreds of posts, photos, videos, edits, and captions, launch day continued to inch closer.

Now it sits only twelve days away.

I suspect it will be anticlimactic. Not because it isn't important, but because so much of this journey has happened alone. One chapter at a time. One edit at a time. One late night after another. Perhaps launch day will arrive much the same way, with a few notifications, a few sales, and the realization that after all this time, the book is simply out in the world.

The truth is that I have no idea what to expect. Will there be page reads through Kindle Unlimited? Will readers choose the ebook, the paperback, or the hardcover? Will anyone reach the final page and immediately want the next book?

Or will it simply drift into the world and find its readers slowly over time?

Weeks ago, I gifted early copies to the models who helped bring this project to life. The books were not quite at their final stage, but they were polished enough that I felt proud to share them.

Since then, I have heard almost nothing. Perhaps they have been too busy to read. Perhaps they are slow readers. Perhaps they haven't started yet. Perhaps the story affected them in ways they haven't found words for. Or perhaps they simply didn't connect with it.

The silence leaves room for every possibility.

That may be one of the strangest parts of writing a book. For years, the story belongs entirely to you. Then one day it doesn't. It belongs to every reader who opens it, and they will experience it through their own history, their own wounds, their own hopes, and their own expectations.

Soon I will no longer be the only person carrying these characters.

That thought is both terrifying and wonderful.

Twelve days.

After all this time, I suppose there is nothing left to do but wait.