If I close my eyes and let myself go there, I can picture exactly what it will feel like when I get The Call.
My heart will stutter, but not completely stop. I will remember the next breath that I suck into my lungs as my first breath as a writer-who-will-be-read. A writer-who-will-have-her-name-on-a-book. I’ll call my dad and he’ll say, “What? Are you serious? That’s fantastic.” I can hear those words coming from his mouth. My husband will probably be all practical and say something more like, “when will the book come out, because I don’t know if we can trust those publisher types.” That’s just how he is. I know that inside he’s doing the happy dance with me.
My oldest daughter, the aspiring writer, will be as excited as me. Maybe more, because, you know, her mama’s gonna have juice by the time she gets her first novel written. My son will be shocked, because I don’t think that it has really entered his universe that his mama is actually doing something at the computer that doesn’t include the words ‘video’ and ‘game.’ The baby–well, she’ll just grow up without ever remembering a time when her mama wasn’t a-writer-who-will-have-her-name-on-a-book.
I can feel it. Every word I write is bringing me closer. I write a lot of words, so I guess I’m taking the slow boat to get there–but that’s okay. That’s okay. Come along for the ride. It’ll be fun.
