Marcelo in the Real World has been out there since March and I have been overwhelmed by its reception both critically by the professional reviewers as well as by the many, many people who have reviewed the book in their blogs or have commented upon it either publicly or by contacting me personally through this website. I am so happy that the book has already touched as many people as it has. I know that it will continue to do so. And yet, I confess to feeling a certain detachment from all the good things that are happening to the book. Maybe it is the length of time involved between when an author finishes writing a book and when the book is published that creates that distance - the sense that the book is no longer one’s own and all the praise (or criticism) that are heaped upon it are not to be taken, well, personally. Did I really write that book? I remember the years and the days and the hours of struggle and joy but they seem so far off now. I feel as if the images and the words came to me, were given to me, and that I was fortunate to have a good editor who set me on the right path. I’m not trying to be humble. I’m trying to convey what happens after a book is written. I think this natural separation from the work is sort of what a woman goes through in forgetting the labor pains of the prior child so that the next child can be conceived and born. Maybe in the case of writing, it is not only necessary to forget the pain of creating the previous work but also the praise received for it. It is just as easy to get stuck in pain as it is in praise. But forgetting pain and praise is not the right term. What is needed after a book is out is the gentle remembering of the gift-like qualities of the book’s creation. It is this remembering that will carry us steadily into the next work.