Baby It’s You- The Launch Parties…

So anyways, I went back to work yesterday after 2 fabulous weeks. The return was remarkably pain-free. The usual 3million emails, of course, but other than that, remarkably pain-free.

One of my colleagues asked me this morning when my book was out. It’s something that I’ve spoken of, but I’ve not talked about- if you know what I mean. After all, in the partition I’m supposed to be this responsible, professional, corporate type, yet in my private life I’m a (gulp) astrologer and (gulp) romance novelist. It doesn’t exactly do much for my credibility, but, (shrugging) it is what it is. That being said, the colleagues I have told have all been excited for me.

‘It’s out,’ I said. ‘Two weeks ago- when we were in Ubud.’

‘Did you have a party?’

‘I sure did- the publisher pulled out all stops…martinis and canapés.’

‘Who went?’ he asked.

‘Grant and I.’

Baby, It’s You was always going to have a soft launch, but I still wanted to celebrate it in some way. After all, this was my first book- a personal bucket list achievement- and the first personal thing that I’ve finished…properly. Besides, I’m bloody proud of it.

On launch day, we met one of my oldest friends and her husband (who had been holidaying down in Seminyak) for lunch at my favourite Babi Guling warung* in Ubud. She has been a staunch supporter in this project, and a friend for over 20 years, so it seemed fitting that launch day was spent with her.

Later that evening, Grant and I had cocktails (plural- after all, it was happy hour) at Casa Luna. We toasted the book, we toasted me, and we toasted each other. We might have got a little drunk and I may have even wished on the laser light bums of the fireflies* on the way home.

It was the best launch party I could have thrown myself.

A couple of years ago, I nearly abandoned my writing dream. I’d got another rejection and this one really hurt- more than the others had. The publisher had read the first chapter, called for the next three, and then called for the rest- and asked me not to submit elsewhere in the meantime. I’d allowed myself to get excited. Three months later, I received the impersonal, sorry, not quite for us. The manuscript had been out for a total of six months by this stage.

I was devastated- stupidly so.

That night my husband brought home a bottle of Bollinger. ‘It’s for us to open when you publish,’ he said.

‘It will be vintage by then,’ I sniffed.

‘Perhaps, but we’ll be drinking it.’

We opened those bubbles on Sunday night when we got home from Bali- it felt right to have a celebration involving Miss 17 and Kali the Wonder Spaniel… even though obviously, they couldn’t partake of the bolly.

I prepared some luxuriously yummy prawn toasts as nibbly bits and we again toasted the book, toasted me, and toasted each other. Kali wagged her tail.