A stack of hefty boxes arrived in the arms of a beleaguered FedEx guy today, engendering much excitement and a general work stoppage. They contained dozen's of copies of Susan's new book, a collection of essays by popular commentators and political luminaries writing about First Lady and Senate candidate Hillary Clinton. We immediately set about checking them for errors, in much the way that new parents will count the fingers and toes of nascent offspring, verifying that they've turned out within acceptable parameters. There was a momentary glitch in the celebration when it was determined that her publisher had accidentally left out the "acknowledgments" page, in which my name was to figure prominently. I was not bothered by the omission, but it bothered Susan that her efforts to thanks those of us who had a passing impact on the project had gone by the wayside. Of course, I still got a photo credit for the dust flap author's photo, so it wasn't like I missed out on getting my name in print.

Not too long ago, we went to a skating show with Susan's mom and ran into a couple of their friends who have a son Susan's age. He's apparently something of a mega-achiever, and this has sparked a small war of one-upmanship between the proud parents. Susan's mom told them about the book, and they asked if she had written the essays. "No, I'm the editor. I collected the essays and wrote the introductions to each section," she replied.

"Oh, so you're not really the author," they replied with faint disdain, earning my immediate and profound enmity. I was witness to the vast hours that the book consumed over the last year, and it gave me new respect for the title Editor. At various intervals in the process of assembling the book, we took pictures of the "Hillary Room," where the stacks of essays under consideration approached Babel heights. Having the actual book in our hands is so unreal as to give the sensation that this is a pleasant dream from which we're bound to wake up at any moment.

There was the very real possibility that this achievement would arouse massive, guilty sensations of jealousy on my part, since Being Published is in the inner circle of my Fondest Dreams. I really had no idea how I'd react -- the ugly curdle of Envy is certainly among the range of my responses. Fortunately, when the books arrived I had nothing but positive feelings for it. Maybe if it was a work of fiction, I might feel differently... but that brings my attitudes dangerously close to those of the portly couple who were so unimpressed by editing a book, and I let my mind wander no further.

We've talked about the possibility that this newfound proximity to the publishing world (starting with Susan's publisher) might eventually lead to a scenario in which I could pitch a book, but I feel some guilt that I might see in her success the chance to leverage some for myself. I should just feel happy for her, but of course it's not quite so simple. I'm just happy that my unpredictable mind has not bothered to begrudge her her success.