It seems that committing to a novel is some sort of all-consuming rabbit hole. Every turn leads to another task, another list, another commitment. 

My past week went like this:

Everybody says I have to market myself. Put myself out there on the interwebs. It’s all part and parcel of getting out there so people know I wrote a book.

Which I did. Still can’t get over that, to be honest.

I’ve never written a book before. Never really thought about it until about a month ago, when I got an idea that I had to get out of my head. It’s probably a common theme among first-time authors. I wouldn’t know.