I thought I was prepared for it. After all, I’d had work published in magazines before. I’d had months to get familiar with my Harlequin book cover. Goodness, it’s been more than a year since I finished the story and sent it in. I’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the idea that I’m going to be a real author (whatever that is) with books for sale wherever books are sold.

But when I walked up to my front porch this afternoon and saw my box of author copies, the clouds parted, rainbows appeared, birds sang, and unicorns pranced through my front yard. I would have let out an undignified squeal, but my neighbor and his adorable sons were standing right there, so I had to try to play it cool. That lasted about thirty seconds before I found myself foisting a copy upon him. I doubt he reads romance, but I couldn’t help myself!

Then, I went inside, took some time to compose myself, and curled up on the couch with a book. My book. Yet, I was looking at it with new eyes. I nervously turned it over and read the back cover copy–which I had never seen before.

From the heights of Mount Olympus to the depths of the underworld, new author Stephanie Draven spins a story of fate and seduction…

Not a bad start, I thought. I would read this book.

I carefully open the cover and peek at the first page. A hot and steamy excerpt. Eek, did I write that? Oh, and look at all those superfluous conjunctions I hadn’t noticed before. I flip to the Dear Reader letter, in which I discover a missing comma in the first sentence. Okay, there are going to be errors. I tell myself to stop looking for them.

Somehow, I’m still grinning like an idiot. This might be because my name is at the top of every other page. Or it might be because these are my words, my story, my sweat, and a few of my tears. It’s not the first book I’ve written, but it’s the first time I’ll ever see a novel of mine in print, so I savor it.

I love e-books, but the sensation of actually holding the book in my hands is different than seeing my stories on my e-reader. I hold the book close and fan through the pages, delighting in the feathery texture against my thumb. I hold it close and sniff it. Paper and glue and ink. But it’s more than that. I am acutely aware that I’m holding in my hands the culmination of years of hard work. I’m also holding in my hands all the sacrifices my family has made to get here.

I’m holding countless queries and stamps and envelopes. I’m holding all the rejection letters and all my late night fears that I just wasn’t good enough. I’m holding the critiques and workshops and the kind comments of those who told me not to give up and the not so kind comments of those who told me I was wasting my time.

That’s a lot of emotional weight for one little book to carry. Somehow, it manages. I used to tell myself a story that one day I’d be published. I had to keep telling that story to myself until I believed it. Now I do.

I notice the little tagline under my series decal and laugh.

Mythica: Myths that come to life and love…

That’s about right.

Tags: debut novel, first novel, Harlequin, harlequin nocturne, mythica, mythica series, naval gazing, POISONED KISSES

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