My copies of the UK edition of The Taker arrived today. Authors, can I get a witness? -- you open the box and look at them, and you want to gather them up in your arms and run around the house in glee. Your stomach does fillips, you go light-headed. The world is brighter, more vivid for a half-hour or so. The strange, hunted feeling that has pursued you since turning in your last pages to the editor dissipates (at least briefly) and you have no desire for chocolate. The terrible job pressures I have been carrying around for weeks drops away as though they were nothing.
Several hours later, I am still resisting the urge to go over and look at them, touch them like a new mother afraid her baby is a dream, going to disappear in the night.