A few years ago all I dreamed about was getting a book published. I envisioned subsequent book signings, the interviews, getting on the NY Times Best Seller List, and perhaps, maybe... a nomination for the Pulitzer prize. I expected there to be requests for my autograph and E-mails from numerous new writers across the country, asking me for tips on getting published themselves.
I planned to move to the countryside, where my office would be in a room with a large picture window facing a magnificent view. My desk would be in front of that window, so during breaks I could look up from my computer and enjoy the scenery. I would shop for the most comfortable chair ever, so the numerous hours spent weaving future (also successful) tales wouldn't be too hard on my back.
I was contemplating whether I should look into a microphone, so I could speak those tales into the computer instead of typing them. I'm pretty fast using only two fingers, but I could get a lot more books written if I used the automatic system. I wrote out numerous dedications for future books, to make sure I thanked everyone who needed to be thanked.
I read up on writing screen plays as well, as some of my books might be turned into great movies someday. The screen writer is always the one who gets the Oscar, not the author, and I wanted that little golden statue on my mantle piece. Naturally, I spent many a sleepless night forming an acceptance speech in my mind.
I hate driving, so I wondered if I should hire a driver for my long distance excursions for book signings and tours, or just purchase an RV and let my husband drive me around the country. It would be fun and we could take the dogs along.
I decided that yes, I would be more than happy to make speeches at the schools I attended, and in the classrooms of my grandchildren, if I were asked.
I promised myself I wouldn't let fame and fortune change me. I would remain humble, grateful and never forget the people who helped me get where I was.
Seems I may have been a bit premature, or perhaps, wasted a lot of time worrying about the details. Maybe my wish wasn't quite clear, because although I did get my first book 'Passing Whispers' published, none of the aftermath I envisioned came to be. Not much happened at all. I felt like a teenager who was stood up on prom night. All dressed up with nowhere to go. In fact, my contract with Devine Destinies expired and I signed a new contract with Environmental Publishing. It will be re-released sometime this year.
It seems that getting published might be the easy part. Good grief. Maybe I'm being too hard on myself. The eight year old daughter of my middle daughter's old best friend from high school DID ask me to autograph a piece of paper for her. That's something. Right?
And when 'Passing Whispers' comes out again this years, maybe the new publisher will show it to the right people. Maybe it will sell like wild fire and I will be on the NY Times Best Seller List after all! And then...
Or not. Sigh.