I finally have a release date for Snowstorm. The April 1, 2011 date came in a e-mail from my editor. When I read it, I gulped and sat there for a moment staring at the screen before I told my husband the news. For ten months I've waited for the release, and now, for the first time it seems very real.
I knew, as I digested the information, it was what I asked for, but that fact didn't make it any less disquieting. People I know and people I don't will look it over and decide if they like it or not. Maybe some kind soul will think I write better than s/he expected; someone else will likely be (ouch) disappointed in my ability. Either way, my own little project, after years of belonging just to me, will actually be out there. Only a couple of minutes after the initial nerves, I broke out in a smile and didn't stop grinning for about 48 hours.
Now, with the initial "hooray for me" phase over, I remember the reason I wrote the book in the first place. After years of listening to my husband (the psychologist) speak of the misery some teens endure, seeing it on the faces of some students, and observing the abuse and neglect foster kids suffer, I wanted to try to tell their story. I hoped I might give some kid, going through the same troubles, a little kernel of an idea about how to muddle through. If that doesn't happen, perhaps some kid will have a little better understanding about the problems some of their friends might be coping with at home.
In the end, it was never about me at all. This one was about the kids.