I was half right.
The YA publishing world is not all that glittery and glamorous, although it is a lovely community filled with supportive and generous and amazingly talented people. Also, the journey was only beginning. I wouldn't get the book deal for another two years -- so most of those early posts are basically me whining and/or laughing at myself for whining, sputtering impatiently and/or giving myself Rah Rah Never Quit peptalks, interspersed with book reviews and author interviews.
When I wasn't whining or peptalking I was writing about my Italian grandmother, the skull on Mr. Potter's desk in the movie It's a Wonderful Life, my obsession with yoga, and my journey through a hellish dystopian/snow-apocalyptic landscape (otherwise known as a college roadtrip).
When I did, finally, sell my first book and announce it here, one of my friends commented that I would have to change the name of the blog. I wasn't, she pointed out, on the verge anymore.
I made a joke that I would always be on the verge of something. Which turned out to be true in ways I couldn't even imagine then.
Six years of writing blog posts (and I just added them up-- turns out this post will be number 287) and I've learned a few things about blogging and writing and my obsessive desire to pursue a dream.
Biggest lesson: the goalposts are always moving. For fifteen years I'd dreamed of having a published novel on a library shelf. But it turns out that as much as I am grateful for having achieving that dream, I have now expanded my goals, and hell, I'll go ahead and admit it here: I want to be doing this-- writing and publishing books -- for as long as my fingers can hold a pen.
For as the wise New Agey Mother of Following Your Dream Artist's Way author Julia Cameron says,
Once you quit pursuing your dreams, you die.
(Or something like that. I may be getting the exact words wrong, but I think you get the point I am trying to make.)
On this day, the sorta 6th anniversary of my always on the verge On the Verge blog, I promise, dear readers --new and old-- that I will continue to offer you the services you have grown to expect and enjoy over the years.
The whining and laughing at whining, the sputtering impatiently as well as the Rah Rah Never Quit peptalks.
Plus, bonus gifts of
interviews with Mount Everest climbers
descriptions of sausage making
stories about library protest rallies
and the occasional picture of Emily Dickinson's dead brother