It's up. It's out. It's done.
August 9th, 2015. Quiet Sunday, no plans other than lazying around the house, maybe do a bit of yard work later in the afternoon, when the heat goes down. My dushi in the kitchen, preparing me an avocado-and-tomato sandwich for lunch. Facebook spewing its inane entertainment. The dogs asleep around my desk chair, immobilizing me.
The ping of an email. I don't know it yet, but my comfortably ordinary Sunday is about to end.
The email is from my publisher. It's up, says the subject line.
No need to say what. Or where.
The book. My book. It's published. THE MIRACLE OF SMALL THINGS. Out into the world, into the hands of whoever wants to have it, including perfect strangers. Including, most conspicuously, the people who've cheered me on. The people in my life.
Yikes.
It seems so stupid, after 9 months of prepping -- working -- for this, 9 months of knowing it was going to happen... But it still blindsided me.
It's up. It's out. For better or for worse, it's done.
My first book has been published.
The ping of an email. I don't know it yet, but my comfortably ordinary Sunday is about to end.
The email is from my publisher. It's up, says the subject line.
No need to say what. Or where.
The book. My book. It's published. THE MIRACLE OF SMALL THINGS. Out into the world, into the hands of whoever wants to have it, including perfect strangers. Including, most conspicuously, the people who've cheered me on. The people in my life.
Yikes.
It seems so stupid, after 9 months of prepping -- working -- for this, 9 months of knowing it was going to happen... But it still blindsided me.
It's up. It's out. For better or for worse, it's done.
My first book has been published.
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