The book is written and published and launched. How the writer longs to crawl back under a rock or to her library to write and write and write again. How she misses that quiet table, that solitude. But it is not allowed. This newborn book cannot find it’s way in the world alone. And so the new author sets out with her rectangular offspring. She knocks on doors and sends emails. She seeks readings, reviews and events. She tells strangers about her book and annoys her Facebook friends by posting every scrap of information that can be construed as book news. Maybe she even tweets. For what? To propel the little book on it’s journey, to row it out of the great harbor to a place where it will finally catch the wind and sail.