WHEN YOUR WILDEST DREAMS COME TRUE

     Once upon a time, a young girl dreamed of being a writer. She imagined walking into a bookstore and lifting a novel from the shelf, seeing her name on the cover, her face in the author section. There would be author events, where folks would come and buy her book and she would be asked to sign and take pictures.
     Later, this girl dreamed bigger, imagining more than one book on shelves, possibly even a book accepted by a publishing company! She would be invited to talk to students, young readers and writers, to share her story and encourage young writers to be brave enough to tell their own tales.
     In her wildest dreams, the woman saw her own writing idol/mentor/motivator reading her novel, and greedily, also imagined hearing from said idol about the powerful story she'd written.
     These were my personal fairy tales, dreamed up and whispered about to my loving partner as we settled in at night's end.
     I still remember him nudging me to send in my first novel for self-publishing. "It's only your life long dream," he'd scolded. So, I did it. I hit send...and waited. Then, I worked my ass off for half a year in order to get it published.
     I still remember holding the first proof copy in my hands, a solid book, my name on the cover beside an orange poppy. He took my picture, and I didn't care that I wore not a lick of make-up. I plastered that picture everywhere! One of my proudest moments!

     Standing in a packed and crowded Bestseller's that summer at the Flowers for Rodney debut was surreal. My young girl's dreams were playing out, and I pinched myself to be sure I wasn't going to wake up surrounded by my childhood menagerie of stuffed animals, still dreaming; but, it was real.
     Fast forward to my second novel, They Said She Was Crazy, picked up by Tate Publishing, including my picture and author page. Bringing an inscribed copy with me to Manhattan, New York for Book Riot Live 2015, I nervously awaited my chance to give my (unbeknownst to her) writing idol, Laurie Halse Anderson, what I consider my most powerful piece of writing to date. It was more than I could have dreamed. Her eyes teared up, there were hugs and thanks, and I floated away...and waited.
     Over the next six months I posted gentle nudges, reminders, pleas to LHA: 'Just wondering if you've had a chance...', 'Long flight to China might be a great time to read...', etc. I didn't want to harass, but I so wanted her to read my work. Of course, I wondered, what if she'd already read it but hadn't commented because she didn't like it? Plus, I didn't want to become someone that my 'BFF' felt the need to avoid, so I continued waiting, and quit worrying.
     As the adage states, a watched pot never boils. Last Friday I came inside and casually checked my phone. Without thinking, I clicked on 'Messenger', read the new message. Reread. Reminded myself to breathe. There, on my screen, upper right corner, 'Laurie Halse...' As if I needed her full name? She'd read my novel. She thanked me for sharing. She wrote that it was 'devastating and powerful.' My idol read my book! She thanked ME! She described it as powerful!
     I'm not quite sure it's truly sunk in yet, or that I've taken a full, deep lungful of air since last week. What I do know, is that sometimes dreams really do come true. What I wonder is, what the hell am I supposed to do now? When something seen as so ridiculously out of reach happens, what's the next step? I've been pondering that since seeing that message on my phone. It was scary, actually, thinking of future goals. Now that some of mine have happened, it seems more important to create new dreams for myself.
     Once upon a time, a fifty-something woman dreamed...and dreamed some more...