It’s a baby!

By the time I get to the end of every book, I absolutely hate it, more than you can possibly imagine, and I can see no reason why anyone else would ever want to read it.

It is in this lovely vein that I then must work at promoting it. I have to tell other people why they must read it. An admission, because I am feeling honest. I’ve been working on promotional stuff for Proof by Seduction in which I tell you how much I love and adore my book. But it’s all a pack of lies. I don’t love my book.

Some people say they love their books as if they were babies. Maybe there’s some truth to that, because there’s a moment in every infant’s life when it has just wet its diaper for the fourth time in thirty minutes, not that it matters, because somehow it wormed out of the diaper, which it left in a wet mass on top of the stairs. It’s crying at the top of its lungs. And despite what appears to be a general tendency towards immobility, the baby has still managed to climb out of its crib, open three intervening doors, and is now splashing in the antifreeze out in the garage. Also–dear God, what is that thing in its mouth? You have to be kidding me. It’s not a–oh. Yes. Yes, it is.

Mothers, you know what I am talking about. (I do not have children yet, but I have a dog, which is almost the same thing, and this story also perfectly describes my younger brother at one year old.) This is the moment when every mother, whether she admits it or not, wants to shriek, “Please! Anybody! TAKE THIS CHILD, I will give you twenty dollars! No, thirty!”

This is what I think about when other people say that their books are their “babies.” I hate my books with an undying passion, even if part of me feels some kind of grudging kinship and responsibility. If anyone asks me in public, of course, my books are all little angels and I adore every fat little dimple on their collective chins. But in private, my books are that baby, covered in antifreeze, oddly diaper-less, leaving a trail of terrifying baby-slime in their wake.

So. Ahem. Who wants to buy a copy of Proof by Seduction?

14 thoughts on “It’s a baby!

  1. lol I do! I plan to – and Courtney, you are ALL kinds of win for equating dogs with babies. I’m actually laughing. [And yeah – I don’t have kids either.]

  2. I should say that dogs are like babies, except (a) they’re awful for a shorter space of time; (b) they actually WANT to do what you say, so long as you treat them nicely; and (c) they never grow up to wreck your car.

    Of course, babies have some advantages on dogs, like growing up into actual human beings.

  3. lol, well, yes. I don’t actually hate babies/children/people – I willingly subject myself to ~150 little hoods weekly.
    But that still doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather have a dog than human at this point :X

    And PSH. Everyone that I’ve seen is loving your book…baby… O_o iz my bed time. Haha.

  4. Coochie coochie coo?

    I read your baby and held it in my hands. What a cute baby it is!

    I am in personal revision hell for my crap WIP I’ve read, no joke 20 times and want to swallow a few shots of some type of alcohol. Whoever said writing is easy was on something.

  5. I’m in my early twenties and Courtney, I’d much rather have a puppy now than a baby 🙂 Can’t wait until your book comes out, doesn’t it seem like we’ve been waiting forever??

  6. Katiebabs,

    Only 20 times??? Ha! I’m over 30 rounds of revisions on my WIP. 🙂 So yeah, I definitely have a love/hate relationship with it.


    You have to love a story enough to go through the work to finish it and polish it, right? If you didn’t love it, you’d just abandon it in a corner of your hard drive with bad sectors (Oh darn, the file got corrupted… Gee, that’s really too bad… *gleeful laugh*). It might be more like the messy baby/dog kind of love than the rose-colored glasses kind of love, but it’s still love. And yes, parents will tell you – the sheer fact that they haven’t killed their kids is proof of their love. 🙂

    Jami G.

  7. Right there with you sister. Both on the dog/baby and on the book-hating. One of the most terrifying things about trying to get published is the notion that I’ll actually be forced to look at my book again if someone decides to buy it. Blech. Of course I’m willing to take that risk…but still.

  8. I plan to buy three copies, one for myself, two to give away for my January newsletter.

    But as much as I agree with you about babies–my first needed seven diaper changes in half an hour one memorable night, and I used cloth diapers which meant that many to wash after I finally put him back to sleep!–I have to say, I fall on the opposite side of the spectrum where books are concerned.

    I hate my books during the writing, all of them, passionately, at some point. But by the time I get to the end, I am just in love–this book and I, we have come through so much, we have quarreled, fought, and battled through innumerable problems and now we have finally reached OUR happily ever after.

    And when I look at one of my books there on the shelf, I sigh, and go, you are so perfect–for me.


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