Dream Come True

I'm an author. Like, officially, I'm a published author.

***Insert mind-blown emoji here***

I was in Portland, Oregon, several summers ago taking a sabbatical to finish writing the book. I was desperate to push through and get the main body of the story completed, so I rented an Airbnb for a few days, wrote from morning to night, and took breaks during the day to explore that beautiful and unique city. Officially, one day when my time here in Shanghai is up and I land in the States again , Portland, Oregon, is high on the city list.

One evening, the day I finished writing the main story, I was sitting on the patio at a restaurant on Alberta Street reading a book about writing while I ate. The book wasn't about writing while you eat, I just happened to be eating while reading a book about writing. The server brought my food and noticed my book, "are you a writer?" My world slowed down. Am I a writer? I just spent days capping off the story I'd been working on for a few years over the summers. Am I a writer? Am I?

"Yes," I responded. "I'm a writer."

Whoa. That moment was life altering. It was the first time I ever claimed writer as part of my identity. I'd imagined it, dreamed of it, staked out where my book might sit on the shelf in the sci-fi/fantasy section of Barnes and Noble, but had never claimed to be a writer. That word seemed to be a dream. And I think I know why. Up until that moment, being a writer was somehow connected with some sort of author-fame. I didn't just want to be a writer, I wanted to be a famous author on the bestseller list, interviewed on morning shows, and eventually see my books turned into a TV series. Dreamy.

But on that patio, I recognized a shift. My goal had shifted. I discovered I didn't really care about all of that, though, sure, elements of that fantasy would absolutely be amazing. What I cared about and care about now is sharing my stories. I simply want my characters' stories to be known and give my audience a fun journey. My decision to self-publish was born from that. Initially, I was discouraged by the idea of a publisher ever accepting my book out of the thousands submitted every year. Discouraged to the point of just not doing it. But when I realized my goal was actually to simply share my story and help it spread as best it could, I realized that self-publishing would fulfill my goal, so I went for it.

I was talking to a large group of 5th graders about writing fantasy, one of the coolest moments of my fledgling career as an author, and a girl raised her hand, "I want to write and have my work published, but I think I want a publishing company to do it. Is that possible? Is it hard?" I answered her question, "Yes, it's hard, but you can do it." I answered a few other questions, but came back to the girl who asked that question, "You know what? Yes, you can pursue a publishing house, that's a good and cool thing to do, but don't count on them to validate whether your story is worthy of being told and shared. There are tons of avenues for your storytelling. Share your story."

Today, my book got a barcode and label on its spine so that it can hangout in the SAS library with the other cool kids.

I'm a published author. I'm a writer. I'm a storyteller. That's all pretty damn cool.