All of the above

Yesterday when I got home from work, I found that my books had arrived. Theyy are real books, with a picture on the cover and nice blurbs on the back and lots of real words in between and I was SO excited!! I danced and hugged and kissed DH and danced and hugged the kitties (who objected, serially and en mass) and spun in giddy circles hugging my very own book to my breast and tried to think who to call first. then I got hammered with a gut clenching angst. What if it's really terrible? What if it actually just sucks ROCKS? Thank God for my friends in Chrysalis (my writing group) who have praised it so much and so long that I have to take their word for it.

A quick pep-talk, a sweep round the back of my brain to chase all the bats and vultures out, and I settled down with a stack of books and my favorite blue fiber-point pen to begin endorsing the books for his parents, and my mom, and my copy editor, and. . . . Just sort of soaking in the feeling of wonderfullness.

Then I heard that a friend had passed away a few days ago. At first I didn't know what to feel. The unreality factor was huge. Many parts of my mind still refuse to accept delivery of this information. but I have discovered that I can feel elated and bereft and sick at heart and satisfied and several other unidentified feelings simultaneously. It's not comfortable. It's like driving a stick shift in down-town traffic. But it's OK. If I hadn't cared about her, I wouldn't be sad. Caring about her was good (and impossibel to avoid. Anyone who KNEW her adored her.) I've survived grief before and will again. The happiness over the book does not diminish my sense of loss. The sorrow does not diminish the happiness. I do, however, YEARN for naps more often.

Today at work, I made my first four direct sales. (I work with kind and generous people.) Tomorrow, I think I'll order more books. Life goes on, and it is worth savoring.