Today is my pub date and I believe that every writer should consider this passage (from BIRD BY BIRD) on pub dates.

"I remember one year my friend Carpenter and I had books out on the same day. We talked about it all summer. We each had modest expectations. I had modest expectations for his book; he had modest expectations for mine . . . Finally the big day arrived and I woke up happy, embarrassed in advance by all the praise and attention that would be forthcoming. I made coffee and practiced digging my toe in the dirt . . . Then I waited for the phone to ring. The phone did not know its part. It sat there silent as death with a head cold. By noon the noise of it not ringing began to wear badly on my nerves. Luckily, though, by noon it was time for the first beer of the day. I sat by the phone like a loyal dog, waiting for it to ring. Finally, finally it rang at four. I picked up the phone and heard Carpenter laughing hysterically, like some serial killer, and then I became hysterical, and eventually we both had to be sedated."
(c) Anne Lamott

Truthfully, my own pub date this year is eventful, with some very nice things going on. (New Yorkers, please come to the Black Orchid at 6:30 tonight.) Still, it's a good thing to re-read, every pub date.

And a good friend offered me a Xanax last night. I refused, ever stoic. But it was nice to be offered.