Mama Mia: the book diaries part 1

And so it begins. If I could insert sound effects into my posts, I would slot a drum roll in right about here. Or possibly the sound of my cuticles bleeding because in the couple of years from conception to birth of this book, there's been a fair bit of that.

Where to start? Well, there is so much to tell you about this book and how it came to be. This is going to be the first of a few posts I'm going to do about it. There's even going to be a web-cast and dates for book signings so check back for those in the next week.

First things first, as of today, you can buy copies of Mamamia here at Booktopia. And you can take a sneak peak at the back cover (which tells you what it's about) here.

It will of course also be in bookshops on about August 26th. Which is next Thursday. Gulp.

If you are near a bookstore around then, please be careful to step over my Mum who will be camped outside awaiting the first drop of stock.

Now that we're getting close, the marketing and publicity machine at my publisher, Harper Collins, has kicked into gear.

It's all a rather surreal experience so I thought I'd do a series of posts updating you on what goes on behind-the-scenes as I embark on this frenzy of pre-publicity. Because it's only just begun and there have already been some quite odd moments…..

I have a publicist (a PUBLICIST), a lovely and clever woman called Jane, whose job it is to wheel me out and get me talking about the book as much and to as many people as possible…..

This is not terribly difficult because as you know, I'm fond of a chat. And having worked on this book for close to two years door-to-door, you'd think I'd have had rather a lot of time to formulate answers to every possible question I may be asked.

But still. I had my First Big And Scary Interview a couple of weeks ago. With a journalist I admire who writes great profile pieces. I've never been profiled before, not like this and it is an exercise in letting go or something. Because as a writer and former editor and someone who has done many interviews on the other side of the tape recorder, I'm having a little trouble with the letting go. In fact I am hanging on for dear life with both hands and a foot.

I have always been terrified of being interviewed for print because the way I am is all irony and piss-taking and sarcasm and all that can get totally lost in black and white. I like to control my own words. Preferably from behind a screen. I'm not to be trusted on live TV or radio. I have been known to fuck up majorly in both mediums. I like the safety of hiding behind a keyboard. And I like to be in control of the words. Have I mentioned that? My fingers are good with control. My mouth? Not so much.

Anyway, so I suggested the journalist come to my house for the interview because I wanted to be comfortable and couldn't imagine sitting still in a coffee shop for two hours. That's when things started getting weird. As I scurried around trying to tidy my house – but not tooo tidy because I didn't want her to think I was one of those people with a perfect house because I am NOT THAT PERSON. It was the day the nanny doesn't come and I was struggling as I so often do when I try to juggle work with taking care of small children simultaneously while not losing my shit. MiaFAIL. Oh in such big ways.

Naturally, I did what I always do when I'm stressed which is over-promise to the kids without thinking through how I will fulfill such promises. So somehow I let my 3 year old convince me to bake cookies with her. So I did that in about five seconds with absolutely no style, skill or grace and much mess. Then I felt all self-conscious that the journo (a lovely woman called Cath who happens to be breast-feeding too) would think I was a try-hard Marth- wannabe. Which I am also not. What's the opposite of a Domestic Goddess? A Domestic Disaster? I am that.

So are you getting the picture that I was over-thinking all this somewhat? And that was before I got dressed and found myself fretting over WHAT BRA I WOULD WEAR. When I mentioned that on Twitter, I got some odd replies which I didn't understand until I realised people thought the journo coming to interview me was MALE and that that was why I had bra angst. SO NOT.

It's not actually as absurd as it sounds. I'm still breast-feeding so there is always a strong chance that my bra will in fact be seen by anyone within a three kilometre radius at any given time. So by the time Cath rocked up in the arvo, I was a nervous wreck. Preparing myself and my home for the interview was like a combination of having your house open for inspection before an auction and going on a blind date. The stuff of nightmares.

Naturally, The Preschooler chose that day to not have her daytime sleep and The Baby was grumpy and I had a meeting at The Tween's school and the wheels were all falling off in spectacular style. As they always do when you really REALLY need them to just stay on the fucking car and spin around IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK GOD, IS IT?

In the end, Cath was lovely and we spend a couple of strange hours where I tried to be natural while madly trying to limit myself to inserting one foot in my mouth at a time. It's bizarre talking about yourself to a journalist. Like therapy but free and also in front of a potential audience of hundreds of thousands of people. No pressure. NO PRESSURE.

After she left, I found the interview continuing in my head. It's still continuing almost two weeks later. I keep remembering questions I'd been asked and thinking of better ways to answer them. I've already emailed her half a dozen times to clarify and re-word things I said.

I'm sure the profile will start like this: "Mia Freedman is a giant pain in the arse…..".

Stay tuned for more installments. Next: being photographed and how I am rapidly- and rather alarmingly – turning into a diva.