Barring acts of God or radioactive slime beast hellbent on scaling the largest tower in my city while simultaneously leaving a swart of destruction in its wake, by this time next week, my book children will officially outnumber my human children.
I am going to level with you – it hasn’t been easy.
When my first bookborn arrived, I didn’t have a clue what to expect. I did whatever any new bookparent would. First I converted a small underused space on the internet into a cozy little site where my bookbaby and my author platform might grow side by side. I overbought supplies (many of which I hadn’t the first clue how to effectively use) so I might be ready for any occasion. I sent out cards alerting the friends and family. I hung up bright shiny pictures of its cover positioned in various poses and dreamed about all the things I thought it might one day be.
I nested. I sanitized my words. I reached out to other new bookmoms and bookdads for sympathy, tips or other advice.
But I was overwhelmed and no matter how much attention I bestowed, my bookbaby still always demanded more.
I consulted the experts who all agreed that the best thing I could do, for us both, was to give my bookbaby a sibling.
I made a choice.
So after a lengthy labor of love, culminating on one cold rainy night, my second bookbaby made its grand first appearance. After the launch, I wanted nothing more than to get some rest and enjoy the benefit of my expanded catalog. Only things didn’t work between the two quite as smoothly as I imagined.
For one, the newest edition was a completely different genre, meaning, as I learned in short order, I wouldn’t be able to utilize most any marketing hand-me-downs. Nor did either book’s temperament allow me to bundle them together. Well… shoot.
I consulted the experts once again on what to do. The answer was the same.
Write more books (preferably this time in the same genre).
But at this point, my other children, my human children were no longer going to bed early or taking mid-day naps, nor was the day job getting any less demanding.
Then, to make matters worse, the words stopped flowing. Not all at once, but bit by bit until one day I realized that somewhere along the line, I’d let my story slip.
I found myself at the base of a mountain – a mountain of a goal – a goal I’d created.
I thought about quitting. I thought about it a lot.
I thought about quitting.
But I didn’t.
You didn’t. You could have. You didn’t let me.
I made a choice.
So now I’ve scaled a mountain – a mountain of a goal – a goal I created, only to see another mountain on the other side.
With your continued patience and more than a little of your support, I’ll scale that one too.
Thanks to you all.
I’d never have come this far without you.
Project Gene Assist Book Two: The Watch & Wand officially goes on sale Tuesday, December 5th. (Kindle Pre-order now available). You can read an excerpt here.
(available January 2nd, 2018) to tell her how much I loved her creation and was beyond thrilled when she allowed me to use her prompts for these posts.
A pair of Thanksgiving trees now stands at attention in the center of my dining room table. They were a project my boys worked on one day with their Nana. They consist a foam trunk with a scattering of bare branches. Red, yellow, and orange leaves, attached by glue, proudly proclaim all the things my children are grateful for this year.
This one was on LT’s list as well and is a story in and of itself. The neighbors down the street had a trampoline and a son who’d recently graduated from high school.
Her mother was doing that thing she did. That thing with the rag in the sink. The neighbors said they’d check in on her from time to time. Even so, Margaret was only too aware how little a promise meant. “Give it to me.”
Speaking of the Bloggers Bash and those across the pond, the event’s founder and author of the non-fiction writing guide, 
Allie Potts 