6 days to go until the grand release of STALKING SAPPHIRE. Meaning: Only 6 days left of hyperventilating into paper bags. 6 days before I start sleeping like a normal person again. 6 days until every food I put in my system doesn't make me nauseous...hopefully.
There are no guarantees, of course. Perhaps every published author out there secretly spend their life not being able to eat, sleep, or breathe properly? What do I know.
You'd assume that someone like Stephen King would be used to the excruciating nerves that come along with releasing a book, skipping by your side, insisting on holding your hand where ever you go like an annoying child who won't stop asking: "why-why-why-why-why?", but can you really be sure?
Perhaps, there is a small percentage of a chance that this will be my life now. A life where I'm a nerved out 26-year-old with stress wrinkles of a 53 year-old, have the non-existent appetite of a 3 year-old who refuses to eat anything but Cheerios, sleep like a 35 year-old insomniac, and breathe like a 92 year-old who has lost their oxygen tank. Fun.
There's nothing for me to do right now but wait until the release date, April 2, comes around and hope that when the day finally arrives, I will eat, breathe and sleep like there is no tomorrow.
Only 144 hours to go...but who's counting.