One year ago today, the first book in the ‘Chronicles of the Tree’, ‘Tymon’s Flight’, hit bookstore shelves. I could finally say I was a published author. So this is an anniversary of sorts, and a good time to raise a glass to those wonderful people who helped bring that dream to life. Frank, Bahiyyih, Helenka, Stephanie, Natalie, Abigail… I couldn’t have written these books without you. I continue to write only because you make it possible.
It’s also a good time to take stock. Where is my writing career now, a year after that (admittedly rather exciting) moment? Am I making the bestseller lists? Are studios lining up to option the books for films, paying for my daughter’s college education? Has J.K. Rowling popped by for tea? What? No? How can that be? Don’t fantasy writers always make a mint? 🙂
Here’s the truth about being a published author, folks. Being a published author empties your pockets, puts you in debt, and drives your friends and family crazy with worry. It gives you RSI and pretty much instantly adds about 10 pounds to your hips. But it also brings a big, fat smile to your face, if you happen to love writing more than anything else in the world, and can’t live without it. Which happens to be my case.
So here I am, a year after P-Day: poor as a church mouse, not registering on any sort of list (except maybe one for the number of times people have written to me asking, “Why can’t I buy your book on Amazon?”) and determined, rather madly, to go on doing this.
It makes me happy.
Over and out.