Entry 05

I wish I could pin point the moment I decided to write a book, or the moment I realized that it could be something more than a dream.

Maybe it was somewhere in between solo night drives and midnight writing sessions where my ideas and daydreams overtook my conscious.

Maybe it was in the morning sauna minutes, or the meditation classes. Where I shut out the world and focused on building my confidence and finding my happiness.

Maybe it was in sharing my story with my friends, and giggling while sitting cross legged on the couch while they listened to me world building.

Maybe it was when I started whispering to myself, “I wrote a book.” When no one else was around.

Maybe it was in the insane laughter and tears I experienced while writing scenes that tore me apart and brought me back together.

Maybe it was when I told my husband, “I really think I did something here.”

Maybe it was when I found the confidence to Google how to publish a book, or when I started talking about it to strangers.

Maybe it was when I told my therapist I was too afraid of failure to publish a book or when I made my first post, alluding to what I may be working on.

Maybe it was when 50 people took a chance on me to ARC read my work, and I received nothing but love and support.

Maybe it was when I sold 200+ copies in my first month self-published and I realized I never looked at what my royalties were because that’s never what this was about.

I wish I could pinpoint the exact moment in this journey that everything shifted. When it became tangible and real. Somewhere in between late night drives and saying, “I wrote a book.”