My sixth novel, The Demonologist, was officially published just three days ago. You’d think the experience couldn’t be any more fresh than it is now, and in many ways, it is unquestionably exciting and surprising and new. But in other ways, this first week of publication has been prepared for and anticipated – pre-lived – to the extent that this, its appearance on tables and shelves and screens, is only step #126 on the book’s journey.
Way back in the mists of time there was conceiving the idea, researching it, outlining it. Writing it. Then the editing, the notes, the multiple reads. Followed by the pre-publication discussions about the cover, marketing plans, ad copy, the small ways I might assist in all of the above. And then the publicity: interviews (always that awkward revelation of how odd your recorded voice sounds, how strangely your face is shaped when seen on a TV).
Finally, the book is “published.” But, like a reincarnated soul, it’s a baby that’s been born many times before.
So here’s what’s different this time around: I’ve been around long enough, seen the process enough times, know how difficult that whole thing is, to fully appreciate how amazing it is to have so many people – publishers, journalists, booksellers, fans, coming-to-you-fresh readers – get behind this thing we call a “book.” A collection of people who’ve never really existed doing things that have never really happened. A story.
Maybe I’m getting softer as I tip-toe ever farther into my forties – forget the “maybe,” I am getting softer – but publishing a book is such an against-all-odds proposition that every time it happens, every time it works, I’m amazed and moved and reassured by the fact there’s so many people as defiantly crazy as I am out there.
Book people. You know who you are. And you have my thanks.
Mr.Pyper, your review in the Ottawa Citizens today struck a chord with me for several reasons, I have since downloaded the audio book version of demonologist.
It concerns the connection we share with love ones, I have recently lost my second daughter ,December. The first one was in 1991, immediately after her loss I would wake up faithfully at 3:13 every night, I assumed that it had to do with her b’day of March 13, later on these number could be shown to spell her name Emilie (threes and ones twisted), after I accepted that she was gone the post went away, until I lost Katie recently, when the same phenomena occurred , I see it at a love contact. I have recently returned from Australia where my remaining daughter had corrective open heart surgery, the cause of all this anguish,on the days leading up to her surgery I was walking through a flee market in Sydney and saw dozen of singing bowl, I chose one who turned out to be heart chakra. On the day of my departure Sarah and I sat on the sofa holding the bowl between us , struck it and I told her that whenever she needed her sisters or mother (I forgot the mother was also a victim of this condition in 1996). I got up looked over at the clock on the microwave 3:13…….
I have taken enough of your time and I am looking forward to reading your book
Yves Genereux
Thank you so much for sharing your story, Yves. Let me say too that I am sorry for your losses. Though it seems that there is still comfort – and communication – being shared among your children and family, this side of life or otherwise.
Again, my thanks, and All Best,
Andrew