For I Am A Writer!

January 26, 2008 at 3:00 am | Category: blog

Hey, all and many thanks to Sandra for inviting me to come hang out on her blog! My book, The Accidental Werewolf is due out in just over a week and the most amazing thing happened to me just the other day because of the above mentioned.

So, I was going to write about something totally different, but in the middle of thinking about what to write, my book arrived. Yep, MY book. The one that’ll be on all the shelves of the bookstores I go to all the time. The book I wrote never, ever believing anyone would want it. The book I thought had to be the nuttiest idea like evah.

And the arrival of said book went something like this… I’m all on the phone with my BFF Ter and the doorbell rings. I have like Mutual of Omaha here at my house, so it can be chaotic. Personally, I have three small dogs and two cats. My boyfriend has two dogs, and I babysit them during the day because I can’t bear the idea of them being alone. Get your fingers out—that’s FIVE dogs. Insanity is thy name

Anyway, the doorbell rings and the dogs, in all their splendiferous-ness, bark like they’ve been possessed by whatever held Linda Blair in it’s clutches. I shove my way through the mass of snarling hairballs with mouths (because they’re so well-trained) and reach for the door. I yell at them to hush (okay, I said something about having duct tape, too, but whatever), and grab the doorknob.

I cock my head in confusion when I peer through the stained glass of my front door—it’s the Fed-Ex man. Queue spooky music. The only person who sends stuff Fed-Ex is my publishing company, and I’m always convinced they’re sending me my walking papers.

I stick my hand out the door and our eyes connect—he looks into my deep, dark, brown eyes—I look into his red ones and wonder if he got snockered the night before. I grab said package and mutter a quick “thank you”, slam the door shut before a furry escapes from the asylum, and go back to my phone call with my friend.

“Ooooh,” I say to my friend Ter in hushed, reverent tones, “it’s a package from Berkley.” I run my hands over it, my fingers tremble as I attempt to rip it open. My first attempt is unsuccessful, so I snag my scissors and tear on in. The sound of bubble wrap popping drifts pleasantly to my ears, much like the joyous sound that occurs when you’ve bought way more shoes than your budget allows and the cashier, when referring to your credit card, says, “It’s approved.”

And then, I see what’s in the package. It’s purple and shiny and it has my name on it. Mine. Me, me, me! Crazy, right?

Light and sound mingle, becoming one—Ter’s voice becomes much like the adult voices on those Charlie Brown specials. The angels sing—the world tips on its axis. It’s my book!

And suddenly, I feel omnipotent—the road to NY has been a long, twisting one, littered with pitfalls, full of obstacles (okay, so not really, but the drama is soooo good for affect, yes?). Yet, I, like a brave she-warrior, have persevered.

For I am a writer! By God, today I am someone—I’ve seen the Heavens and they call my name…

Which is big, honkin’ baby, in case you were wondering. Because I cried like one. I mean, for real. Sobbed like the girl I am

All of that brought me to this thought…

In the spirit of special deliveries—do tell—what’s the best thing the Fed-Ex man ever brought you? All ya gotta do is post, and you could win a signed copy of the book I turned into a sobbing mass of goo over, plus some other little goodies!

Dakota

Tweet This! Buzz Up! Digg This! Reddit Stumble

No Comments