This was to be my year. The one that a number of things I’d been working toward for years would happen or I hoped for them to happen. For all that time I could imagine the crowd clapping, me receiving my award, even knew what I would say in my speech and then came the virus.
There would be no travel, no events, no spotlight.
This summer Harlequin was to honor me for writing 25 books. I was to walk across the dance floor and be recognized and be given a pin. They did recognize me online and with a beautiful bouquet of flowers but it wasn’t the same being dressed in my painting clothes in my basement office without be surrounded by my friends. Since the day I started writing for Harlequin, I never dream I’d be able to write so many books. I have to admit I am overly proud of the accomplishment. Maybe that’s the major part of the problem. Too much pride.
For over ten years I’ve entered my local romance writers contest called the Maggie. It’s one of the top five romance contests. This year two of my books made the finalist list. I was tickled. After I read the other books in my category, I feared my chances were slim. I was thrilled to learn of my win by a website announcement. Once again there were no crowds, no clapping or spotlight. There went my pride again.
The winner was…
Compared to many people my woes over the year is nothing. I’m tickle and grateful for what I do have. I learned a lesson in being humble, not once but twice. For that I’m a better person. Too much pride can be a dangerous thing.
I now humbly submit that I have two books coming out for the Christmas season.
My indy Christmas novella will be out on October 1. It is only .99
This one is out on November 1