Two years ago, I woke up as a published author. My novel LIFE AFTER YES was officially out in the world. The day was surreal, and I remember it keenly. It was rainy. I had lunch with Mom and Husband. At that lunch, I had a glass or two of wine. To celebrate. To calm.
I remember feeling kind of dizzy, and scared. Excited too, of course. I remember not knowing what to do with myself. I remember walking into my Barnes & Noble and finding my book and telling the clerk guy that I wrote it. I remember smiling when he asked me to sign a few copies. I remember how my hand shook as I took my Sharpie to those pages.
I remember feeling alive and invincible. I remember expecting big things. I remember feeling the adrenaline, the anxiety, the anticipation. Anticipation of what? Bestseller-dom? Life-changing success? Standard-issue praise? I don't really know.
Well, it's been two years. And this makes complete sense and none at all. Wasn't I just debating Books for Bulldogs? Wasn't I just in the dressing room of Barney's trying on that fabulous book jacket for my fabulous book reading? Wasn't I just flitting about the library of the Hudson Hotel in that little black dress and orange earrings signing copies of my book, my book(!)?
A lot has happened in two years. Almost immediately after my publication date, I began pondering Baby #3. And pondering quickly gave way to pregnant. And this changed everything. It did. Not in a bad way, but a real way. I felt sick and sluggish as I tend to do during the first trimester and my professional ambition started to subside. Sooner or later, I stopped checking my Amazon ranking (indeed a blessing) and settled into what was a slower pace at home. I continued to blog here, and to roll around in my fiction, but my genuine focus was on my 2.5 girls.
And then she came. My littlest babe. And I loved her the moment I saw her and even wrote something, one of my very favorite somethings, from my hospital bed. And now she is one. Running around, collecting words, stories, being a sister.
Two years. And through it all - the ups and downs, the exquisite and the impossible, the wine and the worries - I have written. Words. Words that meant something, words that mean everything, words I will one day go back and read. Because they are clues, these words. Clues of where I have been, and who I have been.
Two weeks. In two weeks, I will do something big. I will meet my lovely agent for breakfast. And we will catch up - about life, literature, and little girls - and then I will do it. I will reach into my bag and pull them out - more than three hundred pages of a story I have written. My next book. My next baby.
Happy two years, LAY!! I love you, kid. And you will have a little sister soon, I hope! :)
Where were you two years ago? Do you find it hard to juggle different parts of your life, your self? In your comment, let me know if you would like a copy of LAY and I will send one along!