On the night the copies of Southern Gods arrived at my home, I was puzzled at my lack of emotion regarding the event. Shouldn't I be feeling something? This is a landmark moment and all I can think about is lying down on the couch after work and closing my eyes. Having dinner or a drink.
Then I received this email and everything was put into perspective.
By now, you're home, you've opened the box, pulled out a copy of SOUTHERN GODS, rubbed the cover, cracked it open and snorted in that new-book smell like it was coke poured between Cristina Hendricks' boobies. You're probably sitting in your favorite chair, readin' through the sumbitch just like you'd bought it at a goddamn store, which soon enough, folks will be doing. Probably got yourself a little glass a something, and somewhere in your mind you're comparing this moment to the birth of your kids, and, while you'd never say you love the book more than your kids, the fact is you baked this puppy in YOUR oven, you pulled the labor pains, and you think the damn thing looks an awful lot like dear old dad.And that did it for me. I got verklempt.
Good on you, John. Hope to share the feeling one day.
I love that guy, Dan O'Shea. What a class act.