So, I got a little full of myself today.
Still a little jazzed from the Publisher's Weekly thing, I went to a small writers' group to talk about how I went about submitting NICE GIRLS DON'T HAVE FANGS to agents and publishers. The meeting went really well. I did a short reading and the group members laughed at all the places where I'd hoped they would. It was a nice sort of "focus group" to test how readers would react to the book. So I drove home feeling really good about myself.
And then I walked through the door at home. There were baby bottles to sterlize and laundry to fold. My daughter came running from her bedroom to ask whether I'd picked up her conversation hearts for the preschool Valentine's party. And I was brought crashing down to reality.
Oh, yes. When it comes to glamour, Danielle Steele's got nothing on me.
I am a writing wife/mom. I work on my books at night after my kids go to bed. Really, my life hasn’t changed all that much, which is why it’s still sort of difficult for me to believe I have a book coming out. I still get up at dawn to get my daughter to daycare. I get up for 2 a.m. feedings with our infant son. I am still the same boring old person I was before I signed my publishing contract.
It’s easy to stay humble when you have spit-up in your hair. And it's good to have those reminders when my head starts to expand a little.