The moment authors saw their debut books

A book takes months, sometimes years, to write. Then there’s finding a publisher. Editing the thing. And, finally, if you’re lucky, seeing the book you’ve been working on become a physical reality. Deborah Dundas asked 13 debut writers appearing at this y

David Brock, Everyone is C02

The first time I saw my book Every

one is CO2, it was in pieces. I watched it being put together at Coach House Printing (printed there, published with Wolsak and Wynn) from preprepared parts.

The pages were assembled into five bundles. The cover, until now only a .jpg, was a flat sheet still not folded or cut. It still, in a sense, wasn’t a book.

It was the pieces of a Mr. Potato Head sprawled out on the floor, ready to be assembled . . . The staff talked me through the assembly. There was hot glue that could scald the skin. Industrial machines that could amputate my fingers if I wasn’t careful. I watched the book come into being piece by piece. My first book took a lifetime to write . . . and about three minutes to assemble. David appears Oct. 27 at 8:30 p.m.

Nick Drnaso, Beverly

I was on my friend’s couch. We spent many nights sitting in that exact spot, talking about “the book” as a goal.

Looking at the printed copy for the first time was an unremarkable experience. I wouldn’t say the moment was very satisfying, but I don’t feel bad about it either.

Something about the glacial pace at which comics are drawn makes the unveiling of the published book anticlimactic. I think I flipped through it once or twice, not saying much, then my friend bought me a burrito to celebrate. Nick appears Oct. 22 at 8 p.m.

Rowan Hisayo Buchanan, Harmless Like You

I was rigid with nerves the day before my book came out — terrified nowhere would stock it and no one would buy it.

A friend offered to take me to tea at the London Review Bookshop. The LRB perches on a side-street just off the British Museum. Everyone there always looks deeply serious and deeply stylish and like they’d have opinions on Camus. Books bought there always seem to have an extra sheen.

I was late and rushed in, apologies ready. Then I saw her. By her, I mean not my friend but my protagonist, whose face forms the cover of the book. She was lying on the table of new hardcovers. Over tea, I burbled my excitement. My book was in the LRB, a whole day early! And my friend, good friend that she is, bought a copy. Rowan appears Oct. 25 at 2 p.m. and Oct. 22 at 1 p.m.

Liz Howard, Infinite Citizen of the Shaking Tent

Seeing my book for the first time was an uncanny experience.

Out of a mailed package emerged this brightly coloured thing, a stranger that was somehow me.

I sensed a sort of tentative and vulnerable love radiating throughout my chest. I rested the book up on a shelf and asked it, “Who invited you here?” Its shocked yellow burned a mauve afterimage onto my retinas. Liz appears Oct. 27 at 8.30 p.m.

Amy Jones, We’re All In This Together

I was actually in Florida visiting my parents . . . One day we came back from a bike ride to find a thick envelope shoved up against the side of the trailer, and I knew right away what it was. I wish I could say I played it cool, but there is video evidence on social media to the contrary — there might have been some squealing, some jumping up and down, maybe some tears. That night we took my book out to our favourite local seafood restaurant and treated it to oysters and Prosecco, and for the next couple of weeks, I carried it around with me everywhere I went. I’m pretty sure there is still some Siesta Key sand in the spine, and some watermelon margarita spilled in the margins. Amy Jones appears Oct. 25 at 2 p.m. and Oct. 23 at 3.30 p.m.

Lynne Kutsukake, The Translation of Love

When the finished copy of my book arrived, I was very excited. I already knew what it would look like. After all, I’d previewed the cover art and proofread the electronic files dozens of times.

Yet holding the book for the first time, I realized how unprepared I was for the surge of emotions.

The weight of the book in my hands, the texture of the paper against my fingertips, the gorgeous artwork on the jacket — it overwhelmed me to think that this beautiful physical object was a permanent home for my words. I called my editor to let her know I’d received the book, but when she answered the phone something happened to my voice. “I got the book,” I started to say, and then I found myself choking up. I could hardly talk. “What’s wrong?” she said with some alarm. “I’m so happy,” I cried. “It’s beautiful!” Lynne appears Oct. 25 at 6 p.m. and Oct. 30 at 12 p.m.

Chris Oliveros, The Envelope Manufacturer

I had been working on The Envelope

Manufacturer on and off for several years concurrently while I was spending the majority of my time as publisher of Drawn & Quarterly. Sometimes there were gaps of as long as five or six years when I had completely stopped working on it.

Whenever I’d pick up where I left off after a long absence I often felt the urge to start over from scratch and redo the early chapters. So it was with some relief that I greeted the printed copies of my book. At long last, it was done. After years of trying to complete it, holding the printed and bound book in my hands was a sign of closure and a sign that I could finally move on to working on my next book. Hopefully it won’t take nearly as long. Chris appears Oct. 22 at 8 p.m.

Molly Prentiss, Tuesday Nights in 1980

The only way I can describe seeing my book for the first time is surreal. The whole time I was working on the book — seven years, in total — I never actually thought it would be a REAL book. I laboured on it out of love and determination, but without any conviction that I would someday see it in a bookstore, or that other people would actually read it. It was something private and close to my heart and I had never imagined it as public, available to any heart that wanted it.

And so upon seeing it I was struck fairly dumb. I felt as if I was watching myself see the book and becoming changed by it, a little meta metamorphosis.

It was the kind of moment humans live for, I think: a moment so separate from the known narrative of one’s life that it holds exactly as much terror as it does ecstasy. It was an alive moment. Molly appears Oct. 28 at 8 p.m. and Oct. 29 at 8 p.m.

Alexandra Risen, Unearthed

I felt the cover before I saw it, as I opened the mailer envelope: a sensuous soft finish with romantic roughcut pages that brushed my fingertips as I pried it from the bubble lining.

Then, a blur of shade and light. Hauntingly beautiful, I thought. The window to the murky forest captured the window to my soul as I explore the legacy of an old garden and my family. Sunlight on crisp white flowers encapsulated peace and humility, relief from the darkness. And the bright yellow text, the colour of a homecoming and new ideas, hinted to the ending. A perfect cover of contrasts and journey — I was awed, grateful and thrilled. My thanks to designer Five Seventeen. Alexandra appears Oct. 28 at 6:30 p.m. and Oct. 30 at 1:15 p.m.

Eric Beck Rubin, School of Velocity

I got my “first time”feeling with

School of Velocity a few months before physical copies hit the shelves. Kiara, my editor, emailed to say typeset pages were on the way and a few days later I opened a manila envelope with about 200 pages of 8 1⁄2 by 11. I’d spent two years working on this manuscript and for the first time it had been laid out as it would be for printing. Font, font size, margin widths, left hand alignment. But it was the fact that someone else had done this, not me, that meant this was no longer a book in my imagination, it was real. Hardcover, spine, seeing it in stores and online — all that was icing on the cake. Eric appears Oct. 29 at 8 p.m.

Laurence Scott, The Four-Dimensional Human

I had just done a BBC interview and was still pompous and needy with adrenalin.

It was a heart-thumping prospect to look for my book in the nearby Waterstones (bookstore) on Gower St., but when I first saw it (or rather, thankfully, them) in their little pile, a string of unromantic calculations crossed my mind: “It’s out on a main table by the door: good. But is it in one of the windows?”

Readying for an imaginary fight with the bookshop staff, I was relieved to see it looking out onto Torrington Place, so fell instantly in love with the bookshop staff. Pleased as Punch and also vaguely frightened,

I went back to admire them on their table, only to find, by some strange trick of pride and expectation, that yours is the only book in the bookshop that appears to be unreal, almost blurred, like a familiar face in a dream. Laurence appears Oct. 27 at 6 p.m. and Oct. 30 at 2:30 p.m.

Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan, Sarong Party Girls

Writing can be a lonely exercise — and this certainly was the case in the three plus years I spent working on my debut novel, Sarong Party Girls.

For long stretches, the closest person to me was a brassy young woman named Jazzy — this cheekily vulgar Singaporean lived in my head and spent days and nights speaking to me. Some days I’d rise at dawn, open my MacBook and start furiously typing to jot down the torrent of dialogue she frequently sent coursing through my head.

As much as this voice was familiar, I never wondered what it might be like to actually meet Jazzy — until I walked into my editor’s office this spring and she placed a bound copy of my novel in my hands. With her sideswept bob and nonchalant pout, Jazzy held court from the cover. My heart quickened. Now, I thought, we introduce you to the world. Cheryl appears Oct. 23 at 3:30 p.m. and Oct. 22 at 1 p.m.

Ayelet Tsabari, The Best Place on Earth

The box that arrived at my doorstep must have looked like an ordinary delivery to the Fedex guy.

But for me this moment was not just the highlight of my career up to that point, but the realization of a dream I had since I was a little girl growing up in Israel. I perched the box on my knees, in the little space left by my eight-month pregnant belly, sliced the top open and there it was, two stacks of books with my name on them, correctly spelled and everything.

I picked one up, cracked open the spine, and inhaled it. It smelled absolutely delicious.

It was intoxicating. It was perfect. Then I promptly burst into tears. To this day, I am glad the book preceded the baby, because for at least one month, it remained the best-smelling and most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. Ayelet appears Oct. 27 at 8:30 p.m.