You know that woman. The one who keeps having babies. For the first child there are crowds of friends showering her with attention and gifts and advice about the future. For the second child, about half the friends show up. By the third we're into hand-me-downs, and after half a dozen children, well, who can keep track but the mother?
I do know the difference between children and books. I have birthed both. But there is a similarity here--long, difficult labors of love and all. So having today be the book birthday of The Secret Life of Lincoln Jones matters mightily to me. I love that boy. I love his story. I labored long and hard in the creation of his vessel. And as he ventures out into the world I have hope in my heart that he will do great things--that he'll spread kindness and contemplation and make the lives of people who spend time with him better.
Which is exactly what I wish for my flesh-and-blood sons.
On this book birthday, I reflect with gratitude on the people who continue to give me encouragement and praise. The ones who have somehow kept up with my book babies across my career. The people who know that Lincoln Jones is my first stand alone book in five years, and are excited to meet my new boy.
Whether I know them personally or not, these are extraordinary friends, and I just want to say thank you for showering me with your time, your loyalty, and your voice. I know that my career has been built on the voices that speak, softly but persistently, about the merits of my work.
Today is a celebration of you.
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