I’ve always had a tendency to look at the world through rose colored glasses, hoping for the best and believing that things will get better. Even with the rosy tint, I can’t say the world is meeting my expectations at the moment as I wake up each day, don my mask and head out into a virus infused environment. Honestly, as I remove the glasses for a moment, clusterfuck seems to describe the scene.
Despite the world view, my personal outlook continues to be filtered through those rose colored glasses and it finally paid off.
It has been my dream for many years, to finish my first novel and find a home for my crazy story. I don’t know where this story came from—I swear this is not an autobiography—but I loved the way it turned out and I desperately hoped an agent or publisher would feel the same. Finally, I got my wish.
After five years of querying and pitching my novel, on August 30, 2020 at 8:35 p.m. I received the email I had been waiting for from my new publisher—The Wild Rose Press. My rose-colored glasses manifested a garden full of roses—my division in their family is the Champagne Rose where they place all their Women’s Fiction titles. In that email, they welcomed me to their garden and offered me a contract which I, of course, accepted. It will take some time to edit and complete the details, but soon I will be able to say I am a published author.
If you can’t tell by now, I am over the moon with excitement. This is a dream come true and I am so very grateful for all the help and support I received from friends, family and especially my critique group who helped me with changes that may have made the difference.