Thoughts on the Night Before My Debut

Posted & filed under Personal Posts, Writing Life.

Tonight is my last night to be unpublished. In just a few hours (three and a quarter to be exact), Amazon and Barnes and Noble will deliver my book to all the people who’ve pre-ordered it, and it will go up for sale there and other places for anyone who wants to read the words I created.

I am jaded enough to feel ridiculous saying this, and yet I will say it anyway. Tomorrow is different for me. Tomorrow I will have something rare and precious: one of my dreams will have come true. It’s not that I can die happy now or my life is complete–far from it. I have much yet that I long to do. But some fundamental thing has gone my way. I asked a Big Question, dreamed a big dream and the universe answered, “Yes.”

It’s interesting talking to other writers. Many of us picked up a pen a few years ago, deciding, “I can do this, too.” I’m not one of those. I’m the other kind. I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember, from telling stories to my pillow before I could form letters (often Star Wars or Raiders of the Lost Ark fanfic, though I had no idea what “fanfic” was at the time) to spending my lunch breaks in middle and high school with a pen in my hand crafting my latest plot. I’ve tried my hand at poetry and screenplays, short stories and novels. I write compulsively, the way I eat–in truth, I’ve given up many a meal to my keyboard and the ideas soaking my brain. I write the way I love my fellow man, intensely and yet as a matter of course. It’s part of my character. I’ve always been a writer. I always will be.

I’ve just never been published.

Until two hours and forty-five minutes from now.

It’s a novella. I have two more for certain coming out after, each longer than the last. I have so many more ideas bubbling in my head that I need to put down. But for tomorrow I will get away from my keyboard (if I’m capable of such a feat) and go drink a frou-frou coffee drink, buy an outfit, sit in the sunshine. Be a person. Because after years of effort, I will have twenty-four hours in which I will feel like a writer without the least additional effort on my part.

Dreams can come true. Life goals–the big ones, the ones with weight–can be fulfilled. I still have miles and miles to go before I sleep, but tomorrow I will stand still for a moment and look at the glorious view.

In two hours and fifteen minutes, I will be a published author.

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