Yesterday I introduced my book to the world. It was a scary day. The part about putting something you've thrown your entire heart and soul into and then waiting to see how everyone would respond - that was the scary part.
I cried a lot yesterday. Not sad, but happy. Happy because people who have loved me my whole life and people who only knew me for a season jumped into my world for a little while yesterday to let me know they cared about this little accomplishment of mine. In reality, everyone I heard from has done far greater things in their lives. I strung some words (albeit a whole lot of words) together to tell a story, but the reality is, each of you who reached out to me yesterday have done some pretty amazing things with your life too. And I think you are awesome. I didn't want to let another moment go by without reminding you of that.
Today, things are more peaceful. Online at least. But I sold 46 copies of The Clay Lion yesterday (THANK YOU!), and today, a bunch of you are maybe, possibly, going to be reading it. And that is terrifying. And so I am not peaceful at all! I keep thinking about you, out there, wherever you are, reading about Brooke and Branson and I am wondering if you've fallen in love with them the way I did. I hope you have.
So here I am. Waiting. Waiting to hear what you think. Waiting for you to tell me that I should write another. Or that I should hang up my computer and consider needlepoint. The waiting is always the hardest part.
Tick tock. Happy reading : )
Today I became a published author.
(Breathe in, breathe out.)
I have always considered myself a writer. I love to write. As I child I preferred writing to reading which seemed backwards to me. I kept journals growing up, filled with my secrets and hopes and dreams. I wrote stories and poems. Writing was always an outlet. When something was wrong or if I needed to get my point across or express my feelings to someone, I found that writing things down always helped. It continues to be my go-to therapy, even to this day.
Somewhere along the way though, I stopped writing for enjoyment. There was so much writing involved in school with term papers and essays that it started to become drudgery. And so I stopped writing for many years.
Then one day, I heard about this thing called 'blogging' and everyone was doing it. It required writing and deep inside of me a little sleeping monster awoke. I started writing about my family and my thoughts on day to day life, and I threw it out there, into the universe for the world to read. Sometimes I would write about current events or politics. I loved my little blog. And along the way some other people did too. People began commenting that I should write a book. Over and over. I kept hearing it.
What they didn't know was that I had already tried. I started. I stopped. I restarted. I deleted. Over the years, I had tried repeatedly to get something going in the way of a novel. Nothing ever materialized. It was okay though, because I already had a full-time job. I was a mom.
The next thing I knew, my baby headed off to kindergarten. And suddenly, I could not longer claim that I was a full-time mom anymore.
It was time to do something.
So I did the one thing I've always wanted to do.
I wrote a book.
I hope you like it. It's not really my story. It's Brooke's story. And I think it was one that was worth telling. And I hope you think it is one that is worth reading.
Thanks for stopping in...
This is were you get to read about what's going on inside my head. I apologize in advance - the place is a wreck.