A Few Kinds of Wrong is hitting various stores as we speak and I fondled it for the first time yesterday. A few people have said to me that holding a book you wrote is like having a new baby. Well, not really. I mean you’re proud and excited and all but it’s a bit more like sending off a child to Kindergarten. You spend all that time developing something, obsess about it, do everything you can to make it the best it can be and then you let it go, out there in the world to have a life of its own, to be judged–fairly or not, criticized, praised, cared for, and once it’s gone out there, you have very little control over how it’s perceived. You’ve done everything you can and now you have to let it go. But that’s where the similarities end. No matter what, my book will be forgotten in a few months, but my kids (please God) will be out there for a very, very long time. They will affect the world in small or great ways, in ways no book ever will. If someone says bad things about them, I won’t have to dry the hurt eyes of my books (my own hurt eyes, yes, but not of my books). And I know for certain that I will never stand at my bookcase with proud tears flowing as I look at my books, the way I sometimes do as I watch my kids when they sleep. Having said all that, it was pretty sweet to hold that book yesterday and know that Jennifer and all the gang are going out there in the world, that they’ve stepped out of my brain and onto the pages of a book. I’ll tell you there’s a few kinds of right in that.