I don’t know about other authors, but for me, there’s a huge difference between reading proofs and reading one of my books after it’s actually been printed up and published, and other people are expected to pay good money for it.
When I finally get my author’s copies of the book, I always open it with some sense of trepidation. Is it really any good? Will people like it? Or is it more like one of those awful books I review from time to time–full of clumsy writing, silly characters, dopey dialogue, and bogged down in an inane plot? It was with all these daunting questions in mind that I began to read The Fugitive Prince.
How many typos are going to be in it, that should have been corrected? How many pages full of nonsense have I perpetrated? With my mind so full of doubts, it takes me a while to get into the book.
The good news is that, halfway through the book, I’m reassured that it’s all right, after all. Hooray, I didn’t write a turkey! I haven’t cheated my readers! It’s actually good!
It’s quite a load off my mind.
I know I’ll go through the same song and dance with The Palace. Oh, well–that’s just me, it can’t be helped. At least I’m not blase about my work. Maybe if I had 700+ titles published, like Barbara Cartland, or 600, like John Creasey, I’d be able to ease up a bit.
So… I like the book, and now I can’t wait to see if readers like it, too. And of course that’s what really matters.