Signed, Sealed, Delivered...
...it's yours. The book, that is. At 5:30 PM, Tuesday afternoon, I was wandering irritably through Union Square park - regretting a personal lapse in judgment and wondering where the fuck Madison Avenue had absconded to - en route to my agency's offices to drop off that which had been requested: four signed copies of my book contract.
And so, it's done. Officially. As termed by one of my editors, I'm "a house author now," granted all the rights and privileges therein.
As we say on Jamaica Ave., it's time to throw down or get sued.