Two years later… I’m reflecting on how it all came to be. The LOOK of Amie Martine is now a perfect-bound, cream-paper reality. So satisfying to hold the book in my hands – to feel the weight of it mixing with the levity in my heart.
Wake up in the predawn dark, allergies in bloom. Sneezing, nose running, crazy need to pee — first thing I do when I get out of bed is:
type! Because I woke with a whole conversation in my head and I’ve got to get it down before time’s up. Before my little girl and the sunrise traffic, overflowing bladder, cascading sinuses and lifelong enslavement to hot cups of coffee – before all of these and more converge on my focus to steal the words out from under me (for surely I am riding them like a magic carpet over concrete reality into the wilds of pure discovery – and I must not fall before we get there).
In the beginning of this process, I needed an alarm clock and a mental crane to lift me from the pillow. Now the characters wake me up routinely, unapologetically, with less mercy and…
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