The First Print

At the end of my bed, a black lab sleeps. She was just a puppy at the beginning of my journey. Now a streak of white dots her muzzle.

She lifts her head. Listens. Let’s out a small bark. She never barks, so it’s something to pay attention to.

I mute the television. Crane my ears. I can’t hear what she can.

She slips off the bed with a slight groan and trots off. I follow her to the front of the house. Split blinds with two fingers. A small white SUV sits outside. A yellow light on the roof. The drivers sitting on the wrong side of the car. I raise an eyebrow. The mailbox is in the front yard. My driveway is on the side.

I open the door, descend three steps to the concrete, and meet the carrier half-way. She hands me a brown cardboard box. I read the label and smile. It had taken so long. I had forgotten. Easy to do when the real world demands all but a few moments of my time.

I run my hand over the simple container. Inside is my dream. My creation. Designed to perfection. Printed on paper and delivered.

I cut the tape. Open the box. Stare at a glossy image and carefully lift it into the light. This is my baby. Conceived from a fragment of a daydream. And raised in a universe of my own invention.

A familiar odor reaches my nose, reminding me of the muggy southern air just before a summer rain. One of my favorites. I feel the same excitement. The same intrigue. Yet, it’s not the same. I created that pretty picture.

I flip the cover and inspect. There it is. Printed in big bold letters, my name. A tear escapes. Ten long years. Learning. Reworking. Improving. Finally, my childhood came true.

I sit in a quiet place and leaf through the fruit of my labor. The carefully arranged chapters. The calligraphy design at the start. The perfect spacing. All by me. I had done it all. From first word to the final layout.

Why did I spend so much time learning how to do this? Because books can take you anywhere. Make you feel like a queen. A hero. A villain. It can make your heart leap on one page, then send it into the darkest pits of your stomach on the next. It can be sweet. It can be funny. It can break you heart! A good story is a rollercoaster of emotion that leaves you wanting more at the end. I wanted to do that. I wanted to evoke that kind of reaction.

Because I my readers love it. Because my stories are intriguing, unique, and they begged for novels. For prints they could hold in their hands – but that takes money and I am poor.

What are my options? Not many. I have to figure it out. Learn how to use the software. The cover, the formatting, even the editing, it’s all on me.

Guess what? My passion expanded. Now I’m a writer, an artist, and a designer. I love every single part of it.

My readers love what I do. I’ve cherished their comments, their ratings, their reactions – but that was an online site – it wasn’t real!

No longer a hobby. I hold it in my hand. It's ready for more than a community. It’s ready for the world! It’s exciting and it’s scary. I hesitate, but dreams don’t fall into your lap. You must work. You must struggle. You must pay your dues.

I am not the best writer. I am not the worst and no matter what happens, I will always be better than the writer I was yesterday.