And the World Kept Turning

I woke up on June 15th expecting, oh, I don't know, something fantastical. No, no. That's not entirely true...the realist inside me said things would be the same. But the imaginative side just thought the whole world would be different. Like I'd wake up with a tell-tale sign that I was now an official novelist. Ooh, maybe an awesome and mysterious tattoo materializing on my forehead, "Novelist Here".

I don't know...something. But the realist won out (and of course was smug about it as realist personalities are when they're right). I got up, dressed, and went to my day job. I worked 8 hours and then went home. My husband and kids were actually gone camping so it was just me. (I know...didn't time that out all too well.)

So, why am I telling you all this almost two weeks later? Well, because now I'm antsy. Are my sales numbers good? Are my readers enjoying the book? Are reviewers interested?

I don't know yet. It's still too soon. But, as a business woman in a corporate role, I feel like I should know these things. I'm going cookoo banana's wanting....something tangible to analyze, fret over and try to fix if needed. I don't remember this being an aspect I'd realize having to face before it published. And it's a discovered characteristic I'm not very proud of.

I'm a control freak.

I was busy fretting about all of this Friday and babbling about it to my husband. He finally sighed, looked at me in that "Ash way" and asked, "What was your goal?"

"To have a book published," I answered. "But--"

He interrupted. "Did you want a book published and it to become an immediate bestseller?"

"No, but--"

"Did you want a book published and be immediately praised?"

"No, but--"

"Then you accomplished your goal. Congratulations." He smiled and went back to his movie.

I sat stunned, trying to decide if I should be pissed when it hit me. I did accomplish my goal. I have a book published. There was a publisher who felt my work was good enough to have their name and talent behind it. There are people reading my story. That's was my dream.

Everything else is icing on the cake.