Writing a book is a journey. Launching a book into the world is like reaching your destination, and standing naked in public, asking the world to provide input.
As I mark the one-year anniversary of The Elevator launch this week, I’m compelled to look back at the events over the past twelve months. The novel took four years from conception to publication and was published seven years after my first book, Brown Girl in the Room.
It’s a story that was sparked by a whim encounter in an elevator, and turned into a fictional tale with characters that appeared and told me how they wanted to be written. A milestone in my life that took me on an unexpected, journey of highs, lows, second-guessing, anxiety and finally acceptance. And although this might seem terribly chaotic, it’s probably a standard experience when launching a book, or a work of art.
Looking back, memories of the October 9th book launch are almost surreal. My mind was already in angst over some harsh reviews from early readers who were expecting a traditional romance. Although I didn’t intend for The Elevator to be categorized as a romance, I also didn’t realize there was a formula. You know, the one that starts with ‘boy meets girl’ and then ‘boy loses girl’ until the anticipated ending where ‘boy gets girl back’.
The Elevator doesn’t follow that pattern. Art rarely does. But readers had expectations and they weren’t happy.
The launch was held at Type Books in the Junction area of Toronto and I prepared for the event with those reviews circling through my head and a surgical boot on my left foot due to an ankle break. An outfit was chosen in black to match the awkward boot; a last-minute cancellation from one of the venue staff sent me into jittery panic; and all the while I fretted that people wouldn’t come and all of the food would go to waste!
Thankfully, people started flowing in and I remember wheeling around the bookstore on my knee scooter, pausing to pose for pictures and trying to ignore the ache in my foot.
Luckily, I had the help of a good friend who is also my photography partner. If anyone knows photography, they would recognize his name – Matt Huras, a professional wildlife photographer who did so much more than take pictures. He picked me up, drove me to the venue, helped me set up the table with food and spent the evening taking hundreds of photos.
But the next day when my eyes snapped open in the early hours, the horrifying realization hit – I forgot to thank him. I had written and rehearsed my speaking notes more than six times and forgot to add his name. If that wasn’t bad enough, I also forgot to thank my MC, my friend Chris Glover, who took time away from his ongoing efforts fighting for the people of Ontario as an MPP.I agonized over the errors. I should have known better. I’ve spent over 30 years as a Communications and PR professional writing speaking notes for leaders, setting up events, making sure all they had to do was show up and perform. It wasn’t until I was on the other side, trying to plan my own event, manage the promotions, prepare my own notes without an editor, set up a table with food, greet my guests while scooting around with a broken ankle, that I saw, first hand, the value of my day job.
At the very least, I needed a second pair of eyes, someone to remind me to thank the people who supported the event; I needed someone to walk over and gently remove the purse from around my shoulder that I wore the entire evening! Someone to go through my closet and help me choose an outfit would have been ideal. Because although I have a generous collection of clothing, my mind goes blank when it’s time for a big event, and suddenly, I’m standing in front of my closet, frozen.
But after all of that worrying, the book was launched and attendees seemed to have a good time. My publisher made sure the book was moved from romance to women’s fiction and I moved forward to embrace the journey.
When a book store owner contacted me to ask if I would consider attending her book club as a guest, I believed the growing pains were behind me. Carmela from The Book Wardrobe in Mississauga sent a wonderful note and her enthusiasm convinced me to agree.
Two days before the event, I decided to check Goodreads. New ratings had been posted and lower this time, with more bad reviews. There was that feeling in my stomach again.
Imagine walking into a room filled with a handful of readers who don’t like your book. I took a deep breath, smiled and the talk began. What I experienced was eye-opening. The group talked about the characters in depth. They expressed emotion, cited details, quotes from the book. I was somewhat confused until I realized what was happening. They were so invested in the characters, the protagonist, that their expectations weren’t met. They wanted more for her.
As the discussion moved along, I had an idea.
“Would you like to read a sequel?” I asked.
The energy in the room lifted, and a resounding “Yes please,” sounded throughout the cozy room.
“Ok,” I said. “Let me see what I can do.”
At the time, the entire ordeal felt like a punch in the stomach, even though there were many in the club who liked the book. And then I knew I had a choice – focus on the bad reviews, step back and lick my wounds, or embrace the positives and continue my art. I chose the latter.
I held onto the good reviews and touching moments when readers approached me to say how much they enjoyed the book. Among them, one who thanked me for writing about the stigma of eating disorders; another who visited one of the restaurants mentioned in the story, wrote a review and posted a photo in honour of the protagonist; and even another publisher who reached out to say how much he enjoyed reading the story and expressed interest in seeing another piece of work focussed on a younger audience.
Over the course of the year, The Elevator was featured in Open Book, CBC Books and my alma mater came through with a wonderful article in the Carleton University Alumni magazine. I was interviewed for the Bookspo Podcast, and asked to speak at a library event in North Kawartha. I read at Lit Live in Hamilton, Tartan Turban in the Beaches and spent a few weekends signing books at Indigo in Brampton, Mississauga and Etobicoke. Most recently I spent a day at the Mississauga Literary Festival.
And despite the mixed reviews, the book went into a second print.
For everyone who liked The Elevator and understood the ending, thank you. And for those who were so invested in the protagonist Aria, that they want more, thank you. Much appreciation to everyone who bought the book, showed up for the launch, and again, special thanks to Matt and Chris.
Also, much thanks to Aimee at Palimpsest Press for believing in the story, Rebecca, Deepa and Scott, the writers who provided blurbs, the beta readers Dave, Jaclyn and Roz, and everyone who supported the book from conception to print.
After completing the journey of The Elevator, you’d think that I would rest, move forward and embrace the peace that comes with crossing the finish line. But instead, I’ll be embarking on a new path and spending the next year working on another story, aptly titled, Beyond the Elevator. There’s never any emotional rest for an artist.