It's been awhile!
But I have a really awesome excuse. Well, I have a partly awesome excuse that accounts for a small amount of my absence, and then the Sims to blame for the rest of it. I'm a multifaceted woman, and one cannot eat on writing alone. Sometimes, a little mindless gaming is in order.
The phase is over, however, and today I'll start Chapter One on Book 2 of my Long Shot romance series, the very same one I received an offer on from Lyrical Press.
Yes, you did hear right! I sold my book and a little extra besides.
And I'm terrified!
I'm selling a product I haven't created yet, and that's scary. There's a million or so what-ifs I can't get into here because this is a place of light and love and positive thoughts, but I swallow--one of those Adam's apple-bobbing swallows of apprehension and fear that make a big gulp noise--every time I look at a calendar and do some date-math.
That being said, what kind of Debbie Downer gets their first publishing contract and quivers in self-doubt without also being really, really, ridiculously astounded and happy?
One huge difference this makes in my life is that I'm now working.
Not just sitting at my computer all day in a self-made cloud of importance that has to seem totally pretentious to everyone around me.
Now, it's a J-O-B, sucka! I get to write off my laptop and $130 I spent on random office supplies on my taxes next year! Woot!
No, but really. It's awesome to say this is what I do. Officially. I don't have to keep calling myself a writer because I'm not technically an author. (Holy shit, I'm an author!) I was never one of those writers convinced I would make it big or be the next wonder-hit from nowhere. I'm content with an ebook contract, content with getting my microscopic amoebic foot in any door at all in traditional publishing.
Are you ready for what comes next?
Oh, man, I don't think you're ready. It's like a really long Grammys acceptance speech, except you'll find no wrap-it-up music here.
Because besides my agent, the only person I named specifically in my announcement Facebook post (did that cause me some grief), there are others responsible for getting me here. I didn't do it alone.
Spencer is my little broham 'n' cheese who gives me a hard time when I'm not writing, and I think I finished my book because of him. I'm almost certain of it. Just imagining his voice goading me into being productive is apparently some kind of trigger in my brain. My other little broski, Spencer's less pretty twin named Dakota, is the rivalry trigger. We both have these lofty, grand ambitions and I have to be more rich and famous than him. I HAVE TO. All three of my brothers, including the really old one, Jesse, will talk plot with me, and that's not fun for everyone.
It really isn't. Not everyone wants to hear you talk about your damn book. Let alone give legit feedback after you've rambled for an hour about your theme.
My mom was so pissed I didn't mention her in the Facebook post. Nevermind she's getting the dedication. Last night, she said my book was the BEST book she's ever read. And I believe her because she's my mom, and that's why moms are fucking awesome. Of course my book is the best one she's ever read. Just by virtue of me writing it.
(One time my daughter accidentally printed about 15 copies of the exact same page at school. Because she's a genius, she stapled them all together and named it The Same Page Book. It's the best book I've ever read.)
Yes, there are others. I have countless friends and relatives that have been there. Some have literally listened to me babble for hours, others I don't abuse to quite that level, but none of them ever made fun of me or doubted me, and that's all I ever really need from anyone; a chance.
I'm wasting precious hand strength on this blog. I hope I don't forget this place in my trying times ahead, knee-deep in shit-shoveling and a tired fear of failure that will cling to me like a bad smell in the months to come. I'll recall this place of light and free speech, and crawl back to give you updates and whine.
Thank you for reading.