I came, I saw, I signed

"Is this the real life?

Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide

No escape from reality

Open your eyes

Look up to the skies and see"
---Freddy Mercury

So it happened, and went well enough. Do I dream of a line snaked around the block waiting for my book? Sure. But what actually happened is way more important. Good friends, a local independent book store, getting to chat with so many book lovers, that is what today was about. As it should be. Was I panicked last night? Definitely. That is the quintessential dilemma self-published authors face. Constant promotion going hand in hand with constant self-doubt. I signed up for it, I'm good, but it's hard sometimes. It's quite surreal. On the one hand, every writer dreams of being discovered by Oprah's book club and catapulting to fame and fortune. On the other it's enough to just realize that, Holy  fuck, you wrote a damn book! Who does that?

Writers do that. Not always well, not always on point, but we do that. And we keep doing it. It is is who we are. Our kids get it, hopefully significant others do as well, but that's often not the case. Still, everyday a writer writes. We cannot help it. For me, it comes naturally, if not coherently. What is mind-blowing is when you've managed to pound out a book, that is literally a body part you must then shop around and gain the approval of others for, well, then it gets dicey. I am so very grateful for friends, family and readers who continue to hold me up, support me and read what I write. "Is this the real life?" It sure isn't what I could have imagined, but for now, I will take it. 

OMG, Can I really do this?

“Above all else, deep in my soul, I'm a tough Irishwoman.”

---Maureen O’Hara

Irish I am, and Irish I will always be. No matter what, I have won the genetic lottery, having been gifted with red hair and green eyes and a wicked attitude. When I was little, my father told me that this hair and these eyes were proof that I was descended from the kings of Ireland.  The attitude was just a bonus.  While I would always be his princess, I was, by definition, a daughter of royalty, a daughter of Ireland and all that entailed. Also...attitude.

And yet, while we Irish are known for being as tough as nails, tonite I am in a puddle of self-doubt and worry. All of my own doing. The local bookstore, an institution of good literature and good authors, is having me in for a signing. Which is great and the culmination of a lot of work and promotion and pestering.  My gratitude for this opportunity knows no bounds. And then, in creeps the anxiety, doubt and worry. Because writing a book is much like having a baby. Except then you have to drag that baby around to strangers and ask them, “Is this a good baby?” “How did I do having this baby?” “Do you like this baby?” “Should I have more babies?” and all of that begs the question,  “Am I good enough?”

I have no idea if I am good enough, nor do I know how “good enough” is defined. I wrote this book. I hope you like it. If you don’t can we please keep that our little secret? If you do, buy a copy. Either way, I offer up my point of view. My experience. It isn't a book that tells you what life is. It's not a book that tells you want to do. It's just a book about what I have done. Right or wrong, good or bad, what life is or is not. How should I know what life is? Never would I be so bold as to tell anyone what life is, what parenting is, or what it's all supposed to be about.  Here is what worked for me. It's a chronicle of what has happened to me and how I have dealt with it. Hint: I’ve not always done so well dealing with everything that has landed on me. I talk about sinking or swimming. The motto “Fluctuat nec mergitur” comes to mind. It’s Latin, which every good Catholic knows a bit of and it means “Tossed but not sunken.” I have not sunk, nor will I, but I need help staying afloat. We all need that. Buy the book if you want, but if not? No worries.  Just spare me a good thought and wish me luck. Thanks. Maureen O'Hara remains an inspiration to me. Because. Irish girls. 

A Close call!

We've all waited for the UPS truck to come and bring that cool pair of shoes or the late-night eBay purchase, but this week I was sweating the truck big time. Sales are good for the book (yay!!) which meant I was almost out of copies. With a signing on Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend. No problem, I ordered books way ahead of time. Then I waited and waited and waited some more. Now some authors would just call up their agent, or publicist, or publishing house and get  it taken care of. Who does a self-published author call? None of those people, we don't have those people!

I got on the phone quick to CreateSpace, the self-publishing wing of Amazon. A really helpful guy named Albert actually tracked down the order and got it shipped on time, but as awesome as Albert is he cant control UPS. With a holiday in the middle of the week. Panic set in, daily offerings of prayer and bargaining and good thoughts from friends. Finally, on what was surely my UPS guy's last delivery of the day, my books arrived! Thank you Baby Jesus in the clouds! Thank you Albert from Createspace. Now come on by and get a copy, this weekend!