So now what?

I wrote a novel.

Technically, it's my second novel.

Well, actually.... never mind, I'm not counting that.

I wrote a novel.

It sounds amazing when I say it out loud, especially when no one is listening to roll their eyes at me. I've been wanting someone to call me a writer to get published as long as I can remember. It's a dream goal of mine. I'm not sure why I enjoy it so much, this hobby that I don't want to just be a hobby anymore. I've always been weird about it I guess. I mean, I did request a type writer for Christmas when I was nine.

Yes. I said type writer. Yes. I know that makes me sound incredibly old.

I was insanely excited about that type writer. In fact, I found the reciept where my mom paid for it, and begged her to give it to me early. I mean, an awesome gift like that can't wait til Christmas, right?

Technology eventually caught up to me, and again one fateful Christmas morning I finally got my own computer. I wrote fanfiction before I was old enough to even realize what that word even meant. I promise you, I wrote about things much cooler, and sufficated than Home Improvement, Hanson and The Baby Sitter's Club.

In High School, my best friend and I wrote stories, and held book clubs in the back row of English class. Rising Tides will forever be one of my favorite books for this reason alone. I cherished those moments. The note passing, the paper exchanges, and more importantly the gushing over our latest fictional hero.

In College, I started writing for me. It ranged from blogging to short stories. It didn't matter, because I was the only person ever allowed to read it. They're still locked away on my computer somewhere, grammatically insuffient, and inevitably flawed, but they're mine.

MINE.

I think I was alomst twenty-three before I allowed someone else to read something I wrote.

"The whole story was freaking fantastic. So amazing, can you get any better at writing? I think not."

I mean seriously. After 2,600 comments like that, you're bound to get a complex....

Okay, so maybe the other 2,599 weren't that enthusiastic. However, you get my point. I enjoyed that they enjoyed my writing. So, I made the decision. I was going to write a novel.

Goal Set. 

Challenge Accepted. 

It took a little longer than I anticipated, because you know, life happens. Moving, cancer, kids. Even on my worst day, it was something I looked forward to everytime I sat down at the computer. It didn't matter if it was for five minutes or the rare three hours. I loved every moment of it. 

I wrote a novel. 

Even with it sitting here on my desk. Printed out. I don't believe it. 

So, now what?

Now the real work begins.......