On Friday I received a package from a nice, unsuspecting UPS delivery man. I say "nice" and "unsuspecting" because 1) he could not possibly have suspected that I would transform into a shrieking, shouting, squealing mess as soon as he had dutifully delivered the package safely into my hands, and 2) he was nice about it...not terrified, like I would have been upon witnessing the transformation of a grown woman into an indecipherable and uncontrollable mass of excitement, somewhat akin to a 12-year-old attending her first Jonas brothers concert.
Point is: I got ARC's!
The galley is so, so beautiful. And it is just an indescribable joy to hold the book in my hands. I am still in awe of the whole thing, actually. It feels a bit surreal. Occasionally I will pounce on the book from afar and snap it open really quickly, convinced that if I somehow take the thing by surprise, it will reveal itself to be full of blank pages, or full of pages that other people wrote.
Miracle of miracles, so far I have not managed to catch the book with anything other than pages and pages of my very own writing inside of it. It is, perhaps, sneakier than I first believed.