My book, “Lies Jane Austen Told Me,” has been out for a week. I am overwhelmed at how many people are excited about it, are buying it, are reading it. If you’re one of those people, thank you. Thank you from the depths of my clichéd soul.
Thursday night, EAB Publishing hosted a multi-author reading at a swanky library in downtown Omaha. I couldn’t believe that I was included in the list of talented writers, and was once more reminded how cool Omaha can be. The literary talent alone is impressive.
In the 10 years I’ve been blogging, I’ve experienced times when I write less than others. I either don’t make time, or I’m only inspired to write about things I probably shouldn’t, or I feel like I have nothing to say.
This past week, a week when I probably should’ve been blogging every single day, I couldn’t bring myself to write. I couldn’t quite get the balance right between joy and humility. As Stueve and I often lament: our Puritan DNA doesn’t like us to be proud of what we do.
So I’ll just say this: I have loved every photo posted on Instagram or Facebook or sent to me via iMessage when people get my book in the mail. I am humbled by the kind reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. I was overjoyed Thursday night to see so many kind and friendly faces–people I’ve known for years, current students, former students, some strangers–all sharing in my excitement.
And I’m silly excited to head to Utah later this week for a couple of author events. I never imagined any of this when EAB said they would publish my book. Sometimes not imagining the possibilities is a good thing: we can be filled with awe at what actually happens.
