As some of you know, I have a middle grade book coming out in 2013 (shameless plug). Part of the excitement of having a book come out is watching all the stuff come together. The cover art, for example, is looking fantastic. So is the map. I have printouts lying around the house to show people so I can get their opinion. Also, of course, to brag.

Hey, at least I’m honest.

The other day, my oldest son had a very good friend of his over. Stuck in separate classes this past school year, the two boys just haven’t been able to see each other much.  They had a great time, running and playing and talking nonstop. After a couple hours, as  I heard them winding down a bit, I went down with the picture of the book cover.

My son grabbed it and showed it to his friend. “This is my daddy’s new book! It’s going to be published.”

I know I’m doing well when one of my kids refers to me as “my daddy,” but I tried to keep a straight face.

“Wow,” the friend said. “That’s really neat!” He looked at me, his eyes wide. “Do you know what it’s going to be about?”

“Um,” I said, caught off guard. “Yes. I, uh, wrote it.”

“You mean it’s all done?”

“Yeah. It’s – ”

“Oh.” He handed the picture back to me and ran off to play.

Sheesh. I get that it’s the next book that matters, but really? Sheesh.

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