One of the peculiarly masochistic pleasures of having a book release date is seeing who you’re up against. In my case, October 1 sees the release of at least 15 other YA books (or books with YA appeal) including those by Tamora Pierce (Melting Stones), Cornelia Funke (Inkdeath), and Terry Pratchett (Nation).
Oh crap.
Just think about that for a moment. It means that if the planets align and your local bookseller has (a) lots of free time, (b) an inexplicable inclination to create a TODAY’S YA RELEASES shelf that didn’t previously exist, and (c) overdosed on Red Bull, Busted would still be in a group of 16 books, some of which even I might be inclined to buy before my own. It’s enough to make me wonder about waving a white flag, although with Uberwriters Pierce, Funke, and Pratchett as competition, that might be a tad redundant.
But then it occurs to me what an honor it is to share my release date with such luminaries. And when I look at the books being released in the weeks before, I see familiar names whose earlier books inspired me to write Busted in the first place: David Yoo (Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One Before), Barry Lyga (Hero-Type), Nancy Werlin (Impossible), Frank Portman (Andromeda Klein), and Gordon Korman (The Juvie Three), just to name a few.
And that’s when it hits me: With the release of Busted, I’m actually one of them. A published author. Someone whose book appears alongside authors whose work I admire so much, and even better, without an asterisk to remind readers that I’m not even close to their league yet.
So go ahead, booksellers, create that new shelf. Just be sure to set aside signed copies of everyone else’s books if you have them, because, well . . . I’m still just a fan at heart.
Antony,
Of _course_ you’re about to be “one of them”…because your book completely rocks, and the rest of the world is just about to find out!