Signed copies and gift boxes of The Daily Pressfield are flying out the door and I’m depressed.
It’s weird. In the hours when you’d think you’d be most gratified, you sometimes only feel deflated. I’ve had moviemakers tell me they feel the same after their film comes out … and painters and photographers and dancers. And let’s not forget mothers!
This is what Seth Godin calls “the Dip” and it is a mo-fo.
In The War of Art, I told the story of the first time I finished a manuscript. This was back in the days of typewriters so I actually had a pile of pages (and a second pile of “carbon copies,” if anyone remembers those) that I could lift in my two hands. Victory! I had finally finished something! I went down the street to my friend Paul Rink’s camper (he was a writer, about thirty years older than I, who had mentored me all the way through the book). I told him I had just typed THE END. I had slain the dragon.
“Good for you,” Paul said without looking up. “Start the next one tomorrow.”
That was twenty-something books ago, and the only cure I’ve found for post-partum depression is to do just what Paul said. In fact, I’ve gone him one better in the intervening years. My theory now is that I want to be at least a third of the way through the first draft of the next book when I finish the one I’m working on now.
There should never be a “between books.” The Dip is too gruesome. We can’t fall into that pit. Our own Resistance will destroy us.
So it’s back to the grind, brothers and sisters. We gotta get another bun in the oven!
Seriously, thanks again to everyone who has pre-ordered The Daily Pressfield. I know we’ve had issues shipping to Europe, Australia, and especially Canada. And there’s no audiobook yet. My apologies! We are working full-tilt on both.
Signed hardbacks and Special Edition Gift Boxes are still available (in time for Christmas).
“Start the next one tomorrow!”