Living the Dream

 I have no idea how to write this post.  Last year I decided that I was going to actually write and finish my book.  And I actually did it.  I finished the first draft in the middle of December and spent the next few weeks refining and editing.  

Yesterday I received my copy of my first published book in the mail.  Holy.  Shit.  I've been dreaming about this moment since I was fourteen typing away on my ancient typewriter listening to Hal Ketchum, Alanis Morissette, and the Cranberries while my family griped from the living room that "Angela" was at it again.  

They called me Angela Lansbury because I was constantly typing.  If I was awake I was typing.  And now, too many decades later, I still have those typed sheets.

And now I also have my first published work in my hands.  What do I do now?  Am I supposed to frame it like you do with a music album?  Do I put it on the shelf between my Alice Winters and my Morticia Knight?  

Whatever I'm supposed to do, right now I'm just basking in the feeling of realizing a dream.