Becoming an Author- When is it real?

Last night, while our kids were gone to a sleepover, my husband and I went out to dinner with some friends. The sports bar (yes, that’s how we roll) was completely packed, with no tables available. A couple sitting at a large table waived us over. They knew our friends and invited the four of us to sit with them.

At some point, the conversation turned and my friend told the couple, “Wendi is an author. She’s been published.” Amidst their smiles and exclamations of awe, I blushed and said “Am I really? I mean, I published it myself.” 

This is my normal reaction when it comes up. I have declared my occupation as “stay-at-home-mom” for so long, that it’s hard to make that shift to “I’m a writer” and take it seriously. Yes, I wrote a book. Yes, I published said book. Yes, people are reading it. Yes, people are enjoying it. Yes, I am writing the sequel, which will make the book a series. Yes, I spend hours writing, blogging, tweeting, facebook-ing, making connections with readers and authors, creating the trailer, etc, etc, etc.

Does all that make me an author? I guess it does. Maybe when I finally get my first paycheck, it’ll make it real. I don’t know. I’ve made so many new friends through this journey, authors Samantha Britt, Kat Stiles, and April Wilson, just to name a few. They are amazing people with amazing talent and I am in awe that they consider me among their ranks.

I’d really like to thank my new friends for making this journey so enjoyable. I’d like to thank my family for believing in me and encouraging me to take the big step into publishing. And last, but certainly not least, I’d like to thank my readers. You, above all else, have made me believe that maybe, just maybe, I really am an author.