Unhumility

“Writers must fortify themselves with pride and egotism as best they can. The process is analogous to using sandbags and loose timbers to protect a house against flood. Writers are vulnerable creatures like anyone else. For what do they have in reality? Not sandbags, not timbers. Just a flimsy reputation and a name.” - Brian Aldiss

In my last post, I extolled the virtues of humility, pooh-poohing the prestige often associated with being a writer. Well, all pretense of humility was put to the test this week, and let me state unequivocally that I have a robust ego.

It happened during a phone call. I had to call my publisher for some information and he was out of town. My question was general, and I explained to the telephone receptionist that I thought my question could be answered by someone else. Before routing me to the correct person, she asked, “Are you one of our authors?” And of course I answered, “Yes.”

My head has been huge all week. Every once in awhile I swagger a bit, reciting to myself, “I am an AUTHOR. How cool is that!” I haven’t even finished the book, let alone published it, but I am floating.

This week I had the photo taken, ostensibly for promotional purposes, but presumably for my book jacket. Actually, I should say cover since this will be a paperback and there won’t be a jacket on it. I purchased the electronic rights, so when I get it, I’ll post it to my blog.