My copy of Sexton Spice is in Perrysburg, OH

 As I have been the last three times FedEx tracking allowed me to follow my books from order, to first stop, to second stop, to third stop (usually Perrysburg, OH), I am nervous, excited, and anxious.

I'm always nervous because, well, it's important to me. On one hand, it's a fool's nervousness. The book either looks as good as I hope or it doesn't. It's printed, and bound. I either got it right when I clicked the "publish" button or I didn't. Still. I made the thing and I haven't seen it yet.

I already know I'll be less than thrilled with the picture on the back. I won't be disgusted by it. I already know what I look like. (That was a little joke. Little.) One of these days I'll get one of those authorlike photos, perhaps. Maybe I'll put a picture of me from college theater...MacBeth. Nah. That one scares me. I look like I just killed 12 people and it wasn't enough.

Holding my books in my hand is a dream long unrealized, and now it's here. Truth is, I really don't care about the photo. I care that people buy and read the books, and mostly that they enjoy the books. The picture? Just little old me in front of a tree with a puff of wind making my hair stand up straight. No resemblance to Tom Benton, Viper. No resemblance whatsoever...beyond the fact that we're the same height and build. Well, okay, maybe just a teensy-weensy bit of character might overlap.