For those who didn’t know I gave birth, allow me to provide you with some details of my little miracle.
It all started years and years ago…my dream was to have a book baby to call my own. I watched as other author mothers popped out book after book baby. I tried and tried for what seemed like ages to conceive, but it didn’t happen. I was so jealous. The other author mothers looked so happy, so fulfilled. I wanted to scream, “Why not me?”
Oh, the tears and feelings of inadequacy. ”I’m a failure,” I’d cry. Family and friends who had no concept of what I was going through would utter those insensitive words no barren writer wants to hear: “Are you published yet?”
When I finally felt like giving up, when I started to think of other “options,” I got the email.
I WAS GOING TO BE PUBLISHED!
Everyone was so happy for me. “I knew you’d finally be published,” they told me. I spent 11 months preparing for how to become a published author mother. There are so many how-to guides out there: What To Expect When You’re A Published Author and Your Publishing Career Week By Week, that it’s all rather overwhelming, especially when other well-meaning authors try and give you advice.
My body went through all these changes: eye strain from staring at the computer screen too long, back and shoulder pain from sitting all day, mental fatigue from trying to figure out how to morph from an introverted recluse into a social media butterfly.
I thought my book baby would never come. Quite frankly, I was sick of waiting. I wanted her out! And then, and then…at 3:46 in the afternoon on a Monday, my beautiful baby arrived weighing 6 oz., and measuring 5” wide and 8″ long. Everything was in the right place; she was perfect.
I named her Tiffany N. York. The name Tiffany is a bit 80’s, but the 80’s will come back again, right? N. York stands for New York, because that’s where her mother is from. And for those who have been asking, I’m registered at The Wild Rose Press—268 pages worth of contemporary romantic comedy with some hot sex thrown in.
Yes, I’m exhausted from round the clock media updates and blog tour visits. And I’m not going to lie and say the labor wasn’t the most excruciating pain I’ve ever felt, but in the end, as I gaze upon my sleeping book baby nestled in her bookshelf, I have to admit it was worth it.
The question everyone wants to know now is:
When are you going to have another one?