When I started this blog two years and eight months ago, I wrote this:

“This summer, I finished rewriting my first book.  Well – not my first book.  There were others.  But they don’t count, because they were terrible.  Or maybe they count very much because they were terrible.  Either way, I consider the book I just finished to be my first book, because it’s the first one I love.  It’s the first one I believe in.  And it’s the first one I’m sure will be published.  I’m sure of that because, even if I can’t get it published traditionally, I will publish it myself.  That’s how much I like it.

Still. I want to see it as a physical book.  I want to hold it in my hands, the way I’ve held so many books I love in my hands.”

And now it’s real. I can hold it in my hands. Today, at long last, that book is published.

They say success is a journey and not a destination, and mostly I agree. But there are moments of arrival. Moments when you know you did something, because it’s there, and you can see it. Today is a big one, and I’m lucky to have so many people who are helping me mark the moment.

People like my family and friends, who text and message me as they receive their pre-ordered books in the mail or download the book onto their Kindles.

People like my agency mates, who are showing off their glorious hair and even more glorious silliness on EMUs Debuts.

People like my students and colleagues, who took the time to write cards, make banners, and surprise me this morning with a book birthday breakfast. 

This is a really good day.