Sometimes I have these really grand ideas that I’m a legit writer. I’ll pack up my laptop and head out the front door to the neighborhood Starbucks for some quality writing time, but before I leave to find some writing space of my own, I mumble to my husband “Deadlines! So many deadlines!”
In reality, most of my writing takes place on my living room floor because the closest outlet it too far from the couch. Usually two kids are barking their demands of “Mommy, I need chocolate milk,” and “Mommy, I need you to wipe my butt!” as I attempt to make some sense on my blog. I hit save on the two words that I wrote with every intention of coming back to the post once the kids are in bed. However, I’m usually so drained that only nonsense comes across my computer screen past 8:30 PM.
This weekend I told my husband that I needed to write, he was in change of the children, and I was not to be disturbed. I snuck upstairs to work in my bedroom (laptop in one hand, coffee in the other, box of Girl Scout cookies under my arms). I opened the blinds on every window and started to click, click, click away on my next blog post. It was bliss. It was heaven. It was over in five minutes.
My daughter, who is just at the starting gate of potty training, decided that she needed to poop in the company of her mother. Better yet, why not do it on mommy’s bedroom floor! Where was her father, the one that was taking over the parenting reins this weekend? Well when I carried a freshly bathed girl down to the basement, I found both of my boy in front of the tv playing video games. Normally the poop on the floor and the blank stares during a video game would have been enough to send me over the edge yelling “I can’t work in these conditions!”
So no, friends, most days I don’t feel like a legit writer; however, this weekend I had a little boost to my legit writer ego. Not even fecal matter or Mario Brothers could bring me down. Because this weekend I found out that an essay I wrote would be featured in a book! That’s right, I’m officially a published writer and seriously considering only introducing myself that way to the new people I meet, “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Amanda, published writer.”
The book is entitled Not Your Mother’s Book on Being a Mom and will be in book stores and sold online April 8. This book is actually part of a series created by the team responsible for the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. So this is a modern, edgy, snarky take on motherhood and I’m thrilled to be a part of it!
While I was relishing in my new found success, I found the reactions from my fan base (read: my family) to be my favorite part of this experience.
My dad asked how much they were paying me, my husband is excited to make-out with a published author (Pretty sure he just wants to make-out), my kids asked if I would read it to them (gonna need to wait a little while on that one, kids), but leave it to my own mom to have the best response.
When I told my mom I would pre-order her a copy she insisted she wanted to go to a book store, find it on the shelves, take it to the register to check out and tell the cashier “My daughter is a writer in this book.” Yup, pretty sure that makes me a legit writer.