I have a book. Advance copies arrived just before Christmas, and for the first time I was able to hold the product of two years of work– 84,000 words and 384 pages – in my hands. It’s finally tangible. A chunk, even. It exceeds expectations, most ways.

The air-freighted carton arrived on my doorstep about the same time I rolled-in from a week on the boat. I poured a glass of Writers Tears Irish Whiskey, and dug in, savoring the moment. My wife was excited. My kids were excited. The wee,...