Around two o’clock this afternoon, the mailman rang my doorbell. Of course I didn’t know it was the mailman until my dad went to the door, signed for a special delivery, and brought it to me. Only then, when my eyes lit on the return address label did I realize that the moment I’ve been waiting for since I was eight years old had finally arrived.
I ripped the plastic and paper away in a hurry and soon–but not soon enough–I was holding the fruits of my labor (all 274 pages of it) in my hands. My fingertips glided across the glossy cover, my thumbs passed over the page edges, and my heart soared.
I took these pictures with my webcam moments later (my digital camera is currently out of commission due to the fact that I cannot seem to locate its cord) so I could try and share the moment with friends.
I’ll post more about the book tonight, but I just wanted to dedicate this specific post to that moment in time that no one will ever be able to take away from me when I, Shannon O’Neil, clutched my very first published novel (albeit self-published) in my two little hands.
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