Peggy Parsons

I’m official.

Every writer imagines the elation she (or he) will feel when she’s presented with an offer for her book. It didn’t go the way I had imagined.

The Wild Rose Press sent an email with an offer and an attached contract to publish my book. Greg found the email before I did. He printed it out and danced it over to me. Grinning from ear-to-ear, he said, “They want to publish your book.” He was elated. Me? I wanted to strangle him.

I was on the phone. I couldn’t break away without explaining why. And I didn’t want this news out, not until I’d had time to look at the contract and evaluate the terms. So for the next few minutes, I half-listened to the conversation and half-read the email, all the time steaming at Greg for his poor timing.

Further research, questions answered, and I returned the signed contract. Through the entire process, I never felt the thrill Greg had experienced. Hey, it’s a business contract. An intellectual, calculated decision.

My oh-my-gosh moment hit me when I saw my book cover.
I’m about to be published.
Now I’m excited!