Last Friday, a man dressed in brown walked up to my front door and handed me a package. I walked into my house, unwrapped it, and was momentarily stunned.
I knew the UPS package was coming. I had been waiting two days for it. I tore it open, and there it was: my very first novel. No matter that I am an indie author and it’s self-published. I could hold it, leaf through it, and see the dedication. What a thrill to read the words “A Novel by Victoria Brown” on the front cover.
Ever since I was a teenager, I wanted to write a book. But, as I’ve mentioned before, children, work, and life intervened. So a year ago, with some money in the bank, and my marketing business fizzling (how do you compete with the global workforce when someone in Brazil is willing to charge $200 for the same services I used to charge $5,000 for?), I realized it was “now or never.” Read more