The Polite Dinner Guest

March 4, 2011

After what seems like a ten-year wait, but is in reality one year and nine months, THE INFORMATIONIST will finally enter the world as a fully realized hardback book, with a fancy cover and everything.

People ask me if I'm excited (yes, but I'm also terrified) or if I'm counting days (I eagerly did, all the way up until the two-week mark, and then perfected the art of forgetting until someone pointed out this morning that there were four days left to go), or if I'm incredibly proud (mostly this all feels incredibly surreal).

There is, however, a really big reason that I'm looking forward to THE INFORMATIONIST finally reaching stores--a reason so absolutely petty and childish that it makes sense to share it now.

You see, in the last 1.75 years, when people have asked me what I do--you know, that seemingly innocuous question that the asker uses to make a snap judgment about what kind of person you are--the type of question to which "professional hit man" is probably just as good an answer as anything? To this I've said, "I'm a writer."

In the last twenty-one months, "professional hit man" might have garnered more belief, because the typical conversation ran something like this:

Them: "Soooooo, what do you do?"
Me: "I'm a writer."
Them, with slight smirk: "Really? What do you write."
Me: "I'm a novelist, actually."
Them: "How interesting. What kind of novels? Romance?"
Me: "Thrillers."

At this point a marquee lights up behind their eyes, rapidly scrolling rapidly through scenarios that start at, wow is it April Fools already? continuing all the way to what if she's telling the truth and she's actually someone FAMOUS?

And then, after an inappropriately long pause:

Them: "That's cool. Anything I might have read?"
Me: ... deep breath ... "Well, you see, in publishing, it can take a few years from the time you've sold a book or two before the first one reaches store shelves...? and on and on in an explanation that attempts to neatly tie up how it is I claim to be a novelist while having nothing in print. Somewhere down in my subconscious there's a little devil who wants to jump up, grab said person by the collar, plant a foot on each shoulder, and shake them while saying, "I am not making this up!"

Instead, I continue to be a really good dinner guest.

So here we are, nearly two years between selling THE INFORMATIONIST and the day the book goes on sale, and now, after all of this time of actually, truly being a novelist, albeit without a product, when someone says, "Really? Anything I might have read?" I finally, finally, finally, get to reply, "I dunno. Been to a bookstore lately?"

Taylor Stevens is an award-winning and New York Times bestselling novelist who—by odds and expectations—should never have become either successful or published. Like many aspiring authors Stevens had no credentials or platform, and no direct route into the publishing world. But, unlike most, she was also limited by a life of cultural isolation and a sixth-grade education.

Born into an apocalyptic cult and raised in communes across the globe, Stevens grew up as a child laborer, cooking and cleaning for up to a hundred at a time, caring for younger commune children, or out on the streets begging on behalf of commune leaders. Books, movies, music, and pop-culture from the outside world were strictly forbidden, and she finally gained unlimited access to fiction after returning to the United States in her early thirties. Her books have since been published in over twenty languages, with The Informationist optioned for film by James Cameron’s production company, Lightstorm Entertainment.