The day started off like any other Monday. I got up twenty minutes late. Discovered I hadn’t remembered to wash any of my jeans. Then proceeded to search all over the house for a set of keys I had hidden on myself during a weekend cleaning frenzy.
By the time I finished sorting through ten garbage bags filled with coffee grounds, half-rotten vegetables, and empty wine bottles (looking for the same set of keys), I was ready to call it a day.
Oh, and did I mention I was feeling a bit under the weather? And knew I had three impossible deadlines to meet in the next three days?
Yep. Monday mornings don’t get much better around here.
When I opened my email and saw a message from Clio, the Harlequin editor I’ve been working with, asking if we could chat to go over more revisions, my reaction was the one you might expect. You know, the one where the writer collapses on the couch and whimpers, “More changes? Why, God? Why?”
(I tend to be just a little bit dramatic in real life.)
By the time my phone rang at the appointed time, I had already crashed my computer and lost a document I hadn’t saved, laughed in my boss’ face when he asked if I had time to take on another project, and accepted invitations for three different meetings occurring in the next 24 hours.
I was in an absolutely awesome frame of mind.
Which is why it didn’t immediately compute when Clio said, “I’ll just come out and tell you. We’d like to offer you a two book deal!”
I blinked. Blinked again. Then the words finally registered.
I’m not sure exactly what the next words out of my mouth were, but I do believe there was a loud “whoo hoo!” in there somewhere.
The conversation that followed was a bit unreal. Words kept coming at me, like “advance,” and “royalties,” and “think about when you might be able to get your next manuscript to us,” but all I heard was, “you’re going to be a published author.”
When my editor hung up (I love saying I have an editor), I called my husband. He, of course, didn’t answer his phone. It was still Monday, after all.
So instead I ran back out to my desk and squealed, “I have a book deal!”
That time I got the appropriate response. The one that included multiple congratulations and excited smiles and “when’s the book coming out?”
Next, I called my mom and dad. Then my brother.
And then, of course, I told the Internet. What can I say? I’ll always be a blogger at heart.
And after that? After that I had to try to work. And was amazingly productive all afternoon (if you believe that, I’ve got a time share in Aruba I think you should buy).
I, Amber Page, have written a book. A book that will be published by Harlequin. A book that will be sold in countries I’ve never even been to.
I, Amber Page, am an author.
Take that, Monday. You tried your best, but I still won.
We Harlequin authors are tough like that.