Being a published author is a roller coaster ride that I can no longer disembark. I feel great, then nervous, then high again, then I want to throw up. Then I feel excellent. Right now I feel pretty good. Maybe I’m just getting used to it.
On the outside, my life is exactly the same as it was before. Dennis is still the best husband in the world. My apartment walls are still green. Still addicted to Reese’s Peanutbutter cups. I pay the bills, I do the dishes, I am still thinking about organizing bathroom closet. I am not complaining: I have a great life, but I guess I expected a parade. This is absolutely silly because I did two conventions in the past three weeks which means I had over 10,000 people saying “Congratulations!” whether or not they were interested. I handed out excerpts and I even know I have at least one rabid fan.
However there has been actual changes in my life, they are just more subtle. Here are two:
My friend Rebecca and I are hooked on stargazing. This new hobby came directly from the research of Other Systems. We started last summer. By winter, I realized I can always spot the inner planets as well as Jupiter even within city lights. We hear the words aurora or meteor shower; we bundle up, and head out of the city with celestial binoculars, Starwalk loaded on my I-Pad and snacks in the cooler to a secluded spot in the middle of the night. I can make out the constellations–especially Ursa Minor and Major, Virgo, Lynx, Pegasus and Draco specifically because I drew them out for the trailer. Now that I can spot Draco: I can spot the Cat’s Eye Nebula without aid of a star map. That being said looking at the star maps are fun and we play with Starwalk constantly when we are out there. Especially so we can see which satellites are flying overhead. Satellites look like tiny meteors : you can see them flashing across the sky and then they are gone.
Another change is how I consume books and movies. With my art background, I enjoy paintings and sculptures at a technical level. One of my favorite things is to go to an art museum and begin dissecting a painting with my eyes. Figuring how the artist captured light or emotion—well now I look at novels and films the same way.I cannot seem to read a story or watch a movie for pleasure anymore. I automatically start dissecting it. I find myself studying the way other authors choose to put words on the page. The patterns of stories. Are the words visceral? In movies, I watch camera angles and all emotional reactions both inferred, subtle, and obvious. The colors or lack of them. Did it work or not? And if not, why not? That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy them, because I do, but it isn’t the same.
Anyone else gone through changes like these?