Skip to main content

Celebrating the Small Things with Something Like Champagne

Last week I was maneuvering a grocery cart crammed full with a baby and a week's worth of food plus the ingredients for my contribution to Thanksgiving when I turned the corner in the wine section (between the boxed wine and the "imports" which were mysteriously all from Australia and all named after an animal and a body part) and saw the mini Champagne bottles.

I bought one.

To celebrate.

I had just finished a draft of my WIP and emailed it off to my agent.

Big deal?  In the long run, not really--we're probably far from done with this project, and the big finish of publication is still a long way away and, of course, not even assured for this particular book in any case.

But I believe in celebrating the small things.  If we waited until we reached the finish line, we'd be in for a long wait.  Or perhaps we'd never celebrate--after all, what is the finish line for a writer?  Publication is a milestone, but there's always the next book.  Reaching a certain arbitrary sales number or readership?  There's always doing one better.  We're never done, so why wait to celebrate what we have accomplished along the way?

So I bought the mini bottle of Champagne (well, something like Champagne but not true Champagne) and chilled it in the drawer of the fridge between the Ranch dressing and the mustard.  After the baby was down for the night, I popped the cork (well, twisted the cap off, in truth) and poured myself a flute of golden bubbles.

I enjoyed it.

What milestones do you celebrate?  How do you celebrate them?

Comments

  1. I totally agree. You have to celebrate the milestones you accomplish. If you're always waiting for the next thing, you miss what you've already done.

    I buy champagne and expensive finger food--gourmet cheeses, smoked salmon, etc. We have a family party and I take pictures.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

In Which I Finally Get to Say: Orbit is Publishing My Book!

I realize I’ve been a little quiet around here recently.  Moms of toddlers will tell you that it’s when things get quiet in their houses that they know *something* is happening.  With toddlers, silent happenings are usually not a good thing.  In writing? They can be a really awesome thing.
Long story short (when does that ever happen writing novels?): I’m incredibly excited to announce that Orbit will be publishing my novel Torn in spring of 2018—and even more exciting, we’ll be publishing a trilogy! The story follows a seamstress who can embed good luck charms into her creations--and becomes entangled in a revolution.
Obligatory Publisher's Marketplace screenshot--because this little blurb means this is super-duper, 100%, don't bother pinching me official!


Long story less short: Want to have the most exciting day of your career and then sit on the news for months? Then writing and publishing books is for you!  This has been in the works for a while, and though I’ve known for…

In Which the Writer Fills Out a Form

I've been writing for years.  Even if I only count the years of "this is getting sorta serious, aiming for publication," it's been a long time.  In that time--about a decade--I never identified myself publicly as a writer.

I thought of myself that way--if I had to pick a few words that make up my personal self-portrait, "writer" would be one of them.  But I didn't introduce myself that way to other people, or talk about it on Facebook or in those polite small-talk conversations at parties. Some close friends knew that I wrote steadily; a few knew where I was in the long, circling road to publication.  I suppose, if you cornered me, I didn't feel like I'd earned that moniker--I hadn't sold a book, I couldn't claim it as a profession, I wasn't "really" a writer in a way that the world at large would understand.

Which is fine--this isn't one of those empowering posts about owning who you are and claiming the name "Wri…

Still Smells Like Pine Needles Around Here...

So there's this scene in It's a Wonderful Life where Jimmy Stewart's George Bailey walks into his future wife Mary Hatch's house, awkwardly shambles through the foyer, nervously handles his hat, and remarks "I see it still smells like pine needles around here."

And this is what I'm feeling right about now.  See, George Bailey is *supposed* to be with Mary.  We just know it.  We know he has a purpose and that something bigger than him has vision that he can't even see.  But he's fought against it and tried a dozen other things and so when he's finally where he's supposed to be...well, I guess it still smells like pine needles or whatever.


Because if I'm George Bailey, writing is my Mary Hatch and it's been a long time since I've visited her.  I've been noncommittal and crappy to her.  Her mom is very justified in wondering why she doesn't just ditch me for Sam Wainwright.

I'm not fighting against anything, but I am …