Not much to say. I am a published writer. I’ve already talked about it, and now it’s happening. Today is a good day. I am proud, honored, humbled, grateful, and I’m just a happy girl. I picked up the phone last night and was seriously about to dial my mother, and immediately remembered I can’t. Pish-posh to that.
Hey Mommy, I am a published writer today! Just like I told you I’d be when I was 10 years old. Just like you said you’d always wanted to be. Just like you told me I could be. Tell you more when I see you.
You can read the post, on the New York Times’ Motherlode blog, here.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go be famous and stuff. Taking the city bus to my mother-in-law’s house.
Oh, and to my fan club (these two): thanks for believing in me you girls, and for encouraging me and always telling me I’m the best. I’d be nowhere without you. Everything I do is because I want you both to have everything you need. Watch me struggle, please, so that you don’t have to. I’ll carry us up the mountain, gladly. You two can set up camp when we get there, when I’m old, and we’ll rest together, deal?