Today I did a thing that felt both thrilling and mildly unhinged.

I sent my book to advance readers.

Not the world yet. Not strangers on the internet with profile photos of sunsets and opinions about commas. But still. Real humans. People I know. People who can text me.

This is the part of writing no one quite prepares you for. You spend years alone with a document. You revise. You cut sentences you loved. You move commas around like they’re furniture in a very small apartment. And then one day you click “send” and suddenly your private thoughts are… other people’s weekend plans.

When I emailed my ARC readers this morning, I felt that exact cocktail of excitement and terror that every writer knows. The kind where you’re proud of what you made, but also briefly consider faking a power outage and moving to a remote island until launch day passes.

One friend wrote back almost immediately and said, “I’m so excited to read this.”

And because he’s a writer too, I replied, “Then you must understand the mixture of excitement and terror in sharing something you’ve birthed into the world.”

Because that’s what this feels like. You don’t just hand over a book. You hand over time. Memory. Vulnerability. The parts of yourself that only made sense because you were the one holding them.

There’s also something deeply funny about this moment. I’ve read this book so many times that I’m no longer capable of experiencing it as a reader. I know what happens. I know where the emotional landmines are buried. I know which lines still make me pause, even now. And meanwhile, a handful of people are about to open a file and think, “Huh. Let’s see what this is about.”

Casual. No pressure.

What makes it extra meaningful is that this book is, in many ways, me keeping a promise. Ken always told me to keep writing. It wasn’t a hard promise to keep, but it was a sacred one. And sending this book to advance readers feels like a very real step in honoring that promise, not just privately, but out loud.

So today I’m excited. And nervous. And grateful. And maybe checking my email a little too often, even though I don’t actually want feedback yet because I also enjoy peace.

If you’re a writer, you know this feeling. If you’re not, just know that somewhere out there, a writer has hit “send” and is now pacing their living room, alternating between “I can’t believe I did this” and “I can’t believe I did this.”

Happy Sunday. Happy February. And cheers to putting your work into the world, even when your hands shake a little as you do it.

My book of essays, The Luck We Carry: Love, Loss, and the Stories that Shape Us, releases on March, 23, 2026. Subscribe to my newsletter to stay in the know!