I planned to write you a post today about when I lost my virginity and how disappointing it was the next day to wake up and and think “I don’t feel any different.” I figured, with all the buildup to release day for my first novel, the actual day would be kind of anticlimactic.
In a way, I guess it is. There aren’t any hard copies in bookstores. I can’t hold my book in my hands or come across it in the grocery store. There were no fireworks, no marching bands, and no New York cocktail parties where important people jostled each other out of the way in order to talk to me.
Reviews have been coming in for weeks, so book bloggers have already been reading it via NetGalley. I’ve been watching my book’s rank go up and down on Amazon from pre-sales. The only thing that’s changed is that people who ordered it woke up with it on their e-readers, and new people who are interested can buy and read it instantly.
I’m still me. Nothing happened while I slept that changed me into a famous author.
So, I woke up. Yep. Book released today. Better get up and get to work. Lots to be done. My husband turned over and looked at me.
And I burst into tears.
How ridiculous is that? Except, you know, today is a day I’ve waited for nearly all my life. So, yeah, I should take a moment to let all the emotions run their course.
We’re going out to dinner tonight to celebrate. I got to choose anywhere I wanted. The nicest, most expensive place in town? Sure. This is a big day.
No. This is my book birthday. We’re going to T-Rex. I didn’t get a parade this morning but, by God, there will be dinosaurs.
Because I’m a published author now. And that’s how we roll. With dinosaurs.