Discover more from Katherine Howe’s Substack
One Day to Go!
A TRUE ACCOUNT on sale tomorrow, and also AI
"I’m trying to decide if I should put out my Substack today or tomorrow,” I said.
“Today!” said my husband. “You need any pictures?”
I don’t know if it is a truth readily acknowledged that a man whose wife has been away for a book festival must necessarily have sharpened his AI image making game, but that’s how things have been going down over here.
“How’s this?” he said.
“The tits on that one are ridiculous,” I said. This is, apparently, what AI will give you when you request an image of a “Pirate Lady Author Book Party.”
“Let’s see what it gives me if I tell it to make the image more tired and realistic,” he suggested.
(To be fair, that is, a bit, what my hair looks like after a long boat delivery.)
“Ugh,” I said. I like the jacket, though.
Do I look like I’ve been punched in the face?
I mean, I *am* tired. A TRUE ACCOUNT: HANNAH MASURY’S SOJOURN AMONGST THE PYRATES, WRITTEN BY HERSELF officially publishes tomorrow, and we’ll be kicking it off with an event at Harvard Bookstore. But I’m not punched-in-the-face tired. At least not yet. Today I’m on WBUR talking about the punchbowl that led me to learn about the real Hannah Masury. More bits and pieces of media will emerge about A TRUE ACCOUNT in the coming days.
Last weekend I sneaked over to Cincinnati for Books by the Banks, and got A TRUE ACCOUNT into some Midwest readers’ hands a little early. I met some amazing authors, made new friends, reconnected with readers and booksellers I hadn’t seen in years, did a panel, and even sold some copies of Physick Book and Temperance Hobbs.
“Yes, he’s just as nice as he seems,” I assured everyone who stopped by to ask me what Anderson Cooper was really like. (It’s the truth. He’s lovely.)
So what’s next?
Tonight I’m celebrating A TRUE ACCOUNT in Marblehead with friends and family - and you, if you’re in town! - at Saltwater Bookstore at 6:30 pm. Then Tuesday is launch day! My friend Kevin Birmingham and I will trade affectionate insults at the Harvard Bookstore in Cambridge, beginning at 7 pm. And then on Thursday, somehow I’m hosting like ten people at my house for Thanksgiving.
That’s beginning to seem like a questionable choice.
But it’s too late now. The cans of spiced peaches will be opened, and thanks will be given, for books and for friends and for food and for all the things that make being alive, together, in this moment, something that I treasure.
And for you too, reader of my Substack. For you, too.