I'm on the 2016 Crazy for CanLit list, which is put together by the Giller Prize people. Hold your applause: every Canadian author published this year is on it. But I'm on a list, okay, which means I exist, my book exists. So I'm throwing roses and high-fiving myself and champagne is bursting out of bottles, etc.
When I heard about this list via my friend Erin, there was a confusing moment when I thought I had made the long list for the Giller Prize. It made no sense -- I knew this -- but my body still reacted as it does to good news. Sweaty forehead. A tingle up the spine. A "wait wait wait wait wait" rush. Fear.
Being on this list is nowhere close -- not even a little bit -- to being on the long list for the Giller Prize. But I am a capital everything IDIOT, and so I believed in the fantasy, I allowed myself that two-second rush. And then I wiped my forehead with my sleeve, and it was gone.
I don't understand Pinterest so I haven't a clue how one is supposed to interact with this list. Further confusing matters is the page that popped up when I clicked on my book:
I wouldn't recommend exploring "Inside Emily, Saso," but I would recommend checking out some of the books on this list. (And a big thanks to the Giller Prize people for including me.)