It goes without saying that becoming a published author has changed my life.
If someone were to ask how, specifically, I’d probably mention one of the big things. How surreal it is when people recognise me in public. Or when I show up to a reading or a signing and there are dozens of people there. I could mention how I travel a lot more now, or the fact that I can spend up to 5-6 hours a day just keeping up with my e-mail correspondence.
But truthfully, one of the thousand small changes has been how I feel about getting the daily mail.
Up until about a two years ago, when all this publication stuff started, my mail was pretty normal. Most of it was junk: fliers, credit card applications, cupons. The stuff that wasn’t junk was usually unpleasant, like bills or notifications about my student loans.
Yeah sure. On some rare occasion something nice would show up. A card from mom with some cash in it, mail order something-or-other, a letter from a friend. But those were few and far between.
But now I love to get the mail. Every day is like a potential Christmas. I get all sorts of cool things. I get foreign contracts that I read and sign and mail back. I get free copies of books sent to me with the hope that I’ll read them, love them, and blurb them.
And I get checks in the mail. I won’t lie to you, that’s really cool. A lot of my life I’ve been pretty poor. Not *really* poor, of course. But student poor. I spent 11 years as a college student, and there were a lot of times when I was broke, the next paycheck was three days away, and the credit card was full. I’m sure a lot of you have had similar times in your life.
I remember getting sick once, and not having enough money to buy aspirin or orange juice. Another time, I remember digging through my cupboards, examining the cans of weird food. The food that you have left because you hate it. I remember thinking, “How old is this can of vegetable barley soup? Will it kill me?” Once I got behind on my rent and my landlord burst into my little one-room apartment, waking me from a dead sleep and threatening to throw me out onto the street.
Fast forward to now. Sometimes I pick up my mail and there’s a check in there. A check for money. A check for money that I didn’t even know would be showing up. Best of all, it’s money that I don’t immediately need for something, like paying my overdue phone bill, or buying groceries, or settling a debt with a friend who lent me a little bit to get by.
But perhaps even cooler is when things like this show up without my expecting it:
(Click to Embiggen)
I didn’t know the Danish version of the book was close to being finished. I’d never even seen the cover until I opened the envelope a couple days ago and found this inside.
I think this is translation number… six? Let me think, so far I’ve had editions in the UK, the Netherlands, Italy, Japan… Number five then. Six will probably be the German version that’s coming out later this month. I’m excited to see that one too.
Later all,
pat
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