Authors like to call their books their “babies,” and now, after having done both, I have to say I can see the similarities. The creation of both book and baby all starts with lots of excitement (or alcohol), takes the better part of a year to do, and is jam-packed with ups and downs. For all the high-points—book offers, baby’s first kick, the first complimentary review, decorating the nursery--there are a ton of crappy parts too—the editorial letter, the massive weight-gain, the copy-editing, the morning sickness (oh God, the morning sickness).
And now that both book and daughter have arrived, I have to say that the similarities haven’t ended. They both are a LOT OF WORK--the deadlines, the late night feedings, writing a sequel, the diapers, the spit-up, the rounds and rounds of editing.It’s amazing how two tiny things, each small enough I can hold with one hand, can keep me so busy.
But the biggest similarity between the two is how insanely, inexplicably happy they both make me. Despite all the work, at the end of the day, I get to hold this thing that is somehow a part of me and yet somehow has a whole life and personality of its own.Sometimes I just sit and think, holy shit, I MADE THAT. It’s kinda an indescribable feeling.
To all the mothers out there, Happy Mother’s Day!