photo by the enormously talented Pascal Grob
This is an incredibly difficult post to write. Those of you who have pre-ordered Isla and the Happily Ever After have most likely received an email telling you that the release date has been pushed back to May 15, 2014—a full year from now.
This is both true and not true.
I am so, so sorry.
And I shall try my best to explain.
To answer your most pressing question first, May 15, 2014 is a placeholder date. This is NOT the book's official release date.
So . . . what’s the purpose of a placeholder date?
This is sort of confusing, but, basically, when a book is placed into a season in the publisher’s catalog (publishers organize the release of books by seasons, which helps them with marketing and conferences and such) it requires a release date. But sometimes—like with Isla—the book’s release date is unknown at the time of the catalog’s release. When this occurs, the book is given a placeholder date.
The reason why Isla currently has a placeholder is twofold:
(1) My publisher and I are doing everything we can to move this book forward. Our hope is that we’ll be able to release it earlier than its placeholder date. But we can’t know for sure until we’re further through the editorial process. The most honest date that I can give you right now is simply: 2014.
(2) It’s my fault.
I want to be extraordinarily clear that the reason why my book is delayed has everything to do with me and nothing to do with anyone else. Please, please, please don’t send your complaints to my publisher. I am the person at fault.
My editor, my agent, and everyone at Penguin have been nothing but patient with me—far more so than I deserve. I have not made it easy on them. I am grateful and humbled by their continued support, caring, and well wishes.
And now I’ve come to the section of this post where I have to decide . . . which parts of my story to tell you. Where should I be honest and forthright, and where should I remain private?
I’ll begin here: I have depression.
I’ve been diagnosed with it since high school, but I’ve had it since the third grade. The strength of it comes and goes, but it’s always present. It is something that I deal with—that I am required to manage—every single day.
For reasons that I am not comfortable sharing publicly, the last few years have been some of the hardest of my life. I have not been this unhappy, this unhealthy, and this unstable since high school.
And my work has suffered because of it.
I am lucky to have the most loving husband in the entire world. The most patient friends. The most supportive family. My doctors are fantastic, and so—to be frank—is my medication. There have been periods where I have needed it and others where I haven’t, and I am grateful for its existence.
I don’t want you to worry.
I’m doing okay.
Better than okay, in fact. This spring has brought an unexpected and remarkable period of healing, and—because of this—my work is finally blossoming, too.
The book and I are both in good shape. We just need a little more time.
Thank you, in advance, for your patience and understanding.
That's all for now.