Sitting here on my desk, right next to the laptop, is a copy of my first book.
It looks just like a book, really, with a spine and ISBN and the author's name on the front. I find that rather surprising.
The lovely people from HarperCollins appeared at lunch with a brown paper parcel. I wasn't expecting to see it quite yet.
It really is a book. How odd. You can open it and flick through (it has very cute page numbers displayed on the mainsail of a little square-rigger).
It's so many months since I last proofed pages, I'm finding it quite interesting reading. So far I haven't even found a typo.
I'm playing very loud music (an old Ministry of Sound CD that always reminds me of driving full-pelt to Uluru), grinning every so often in a rather foolish manner, having a cup of tea, and trying to decide where exactly on the bookshelf my book should sit.
Beside all the other pirate books, I think.
I might have to get up in the middle of the night and check on it.