It’s done. I’ve launched my baby, my decade of long, laborious hours, of multiple versions and wrenching rewrites. My memoir, Marrying Santiago. I still can’t avoid the sensation that the words “my memoir” sound pretentious. And now I’m not totally comfortable in this new role of promoting my book and putting myself out to the world. Heartening comments from those who have read the book – that they couldn’t put it down or that it caused them to laugh or cry – lift my self-confidence. When a day goes by with no input, the doubts march in. It’s not that well-written. Or that chapter is lack luster. I reread parts at random to reassure myself.
Early this morning I lived a vivid dream. I say “lived” because it was very real. I was there. In the small bookshop in my hometown, I’m talking to the owner (to whom I did send a copy) about the prospects of carrying my book. He was not encouraging, pointing out the reasons why. I realize that this is a real possibility that I must be prepared for. I will be back in my hometown in a couple days and will approach the bookshop owner. I am getting nervous, but, when I walk through his door, I’ll keep in mind the wonderful comments I’ve received. I must believe in my book.
I am deeply grateful to Peace Corps Writers and, especially Marian Haley Beil, for making this publication a reality.