My book came out yesterday. It is out there floating in the world, while I sit at home in my pjs eating cake and repeating the words “I am an author” to myself over and over again. To be fair, I have been doing this weekly since I was 8, but now it carries with it a sort of veracity it did not have before.
I say these words again. I want to shout them. There is frosting in my hair and I am not wearing a bra and this is the uniform of a woman who is ready to conquer the world and who also hopes that the UPS guy does not judge her for looking like she just escaped from a sleep study.
My inbox and social media pages have been flooded with messages from my friends. I’ve tried to keep up with them and can’t. They are