I waited and waited for my first book to come out, fantasies screaming into overdrive about glittery reviews and big royalty statements and well ... you've all seen the same movies I have and know the drill.
666 Angel Lane sold 7 copies.
I recognize this isn't counting Amazon sales which I won't know the numbers for until next month. Still, there's no way to describe that horrible moment when my ego realized that my fantasies regarding publishing were just as fantastic as my fantasies about Keanu and about as likely to come true.
Not a happy moment at all.
Then my brother called. He got a Kindle for Christmas and he's reading a Tom Clancy on it during the day but every evening while his wife cooks dinner, he sits and reads my story to her. And he called me today to tell me that he didn't know before just how good a writer I am. Now he does and he's proud of me.
I was thrilled. I also told him next time he can buy his own damned copy and give me another sale, the cheap bastard.
I'm looking with great interest to find out what the Amazon sales are going to be. This publishing thing is an interesting journey.