Well, now it is really close.

I would go so far as to say the launch of our anthology, A Seeming Glass, is imminent. The launch day is tomorrow. By the time most people read this, it will be today. Time is funny like that. ARC readers are starting to write reviews and the whole thing is now feeling real. For a given value of real, anyway.

It will be (is - apparently I am not the only one with a vague connection to time) available both on e-reader and as a paperback.

Reviews so far have likened one story to being hit by an 18 carriage comedy train, or words to that effect, called another 'genuinely scary' and call the writing style of a third 'flowing'. Not a bad start. Not bad at all.

Seeing reviews, hard evidence that other people have read your work, is bizarre. In my job, I get assessed and receive feedback, often to a changing set of standards, but it is not as personal as a story. A story is something you have worked at yourself, by yourself (even though we are a supportive and helpful group of writers to each other, it is ultimately you and the keyboard, or notebook, or clay tablet if you are so inclined, when it comes down to it) and, in many ways, for yourself. To send it out into the world is to realise that other people might think the story has been written for them, and they might not have the decency to read it exactly the way you read it to yourself, late at night, when the little story-goblins were dancing around in your brain and singing that another metaphor would be a really good idea right about now. No. Really. More imagery will really make the story come alive.

Once it is on the page in nice, sharply contrasting black-and-white (or grey and slightly different grey, if you are reading on some platforms), you have to acknowledge that not everyone is, by law, required to love metaphors as much as you do. The story-goblins don't care. Why would they? They live in your head and dance around your thoughts to the flashing strobe-lights of your firing synapses. They aren't bothered by the words of strangers, or family, or friends. In fact, they have forgotten all about your version of Snow White and are desperate for you to get on and write that story about the ghost heart, or the one with the boyfriend being blasted to Hell. They'll even take new words on the post-apocalyptic take of The Three Little Pigs. Story-goblins just want writing to be happening. No, you aren't dealing with story-goblins in this scenario.

Instead, you have to deal with a rather more reactionary beast: the ego ogre. (For anyone who knows about psychology, I am sorry for butchering terms. I just love the way 'ego' and 'ogre' look together.)

This ego ogre crows with delight at positive comments, stomps around in a lumbering dance, then recoils under sudden doubt that it was not a truthful statement and hides in its cave again. The reactions to bad reviews don't bear thinking about, but strong tea is certainly required to get over it. Yes, tea. Not any other beverage. Not at all. The ego ogre drinks tea, possibly with a biscuit accompaniment. A chocolate bourbon or Rich Tea, since you ask.

Those of you who are already published, and have been for a while, will no doubt know all about your own version of this. For me, as a writer, this is the first time I have had anything reviewed. I have had writing peer-reviewed, which is extraordinarily useful, but this is different.  This is...exciting yet vulnerable.

I plan to stock up on tea and biscuits, keep the ego ogre well fed, and listen to the story-goblins again. Listening to them is always fun.