I did it.
On Friday morning, I shipped all of my final paintings off to the Penguin offices in New York (this after one more redo late Thursday night).
Actually ... not just yet.
I packed everything carefully with bubble wrap and double boxes, and I took my babies to the Fed Ex store. The clerk measured and tallied everything up. I gave her the address.
"How much do you want to insure it for in case it gets lost?" she asked, nonchalantly. Like, it was NO BIG DEAL.
I stated a number, her eyebrows went up, and she quoted an amount I couldn't afford.
"Um, okay, let's don't do that. I guess the money doesn't matter anyway. These aren't replaceable ... I mean, if you LOSE them, I'll have to redo 32 paintings that have taken me months to finish."
"Okay," she said, like it was nothing. Then she tossed the box into the stack behind her and gave me a receipt with the tracking number on it.
I wanted to explain to her that my package was really special--that it wasn't like all the other packages in the stack. I wanted her to be, I don't know, wearing a clerical collar and sprinkling my box with holy water. I wanted her to say something like, "Ooooo! Artwork. How cool! And, you're sending it to a publisher? Are you an illustrator? Do you have a book coming out?? We'll be so, so, so careful with these ..."
But, there was nothing like that. Just your basic "have a nice day, ma'am."
Needless to say, I've checked the tracking number all weekend. And, guess what? At 9:15 this morning, my package was delivered.
But, I haven't heard from my art director yet, and now, I'm slightly panicked that I gave the wrong address to the uninterested lady at Fed Ex. I didn't even double check the label before she put my box into the stack ...
Later y'all. I must go refresh my email.
UPDATE: They made it, safe and sound. Woo hoo!!!