Amazonian Anticipation

With a knot lodged firmly in his dry upper throat, a visible tremor pulsating his hand, and a hopeful yet fearful look on his face, he instructed the computer to display the literary life-sustaining data he had patiently awaited, while voicing a silent prayer. It seemed an eternity, as if his internet were an old dialup modem from the early nineties, as he waited for the monitor to display the number 650, 041, which was his sales rank on Amazon for his self-published memoir.

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Finally Proud

She lay in bed, staring in wonder at the cover of her first book in print, and with a sleepy, soft prayer to heaven and tears in her eyes, she said, “I hope you are proud of me now, Mom.”
When her heavy eyelids closed, she was still in that place between being awake and dreaming, and she heard a soft, distant whispering in her ear say, “I always was.”
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Hope, Sarcasm and Wisdom from the Mother of a Writer

“It’s tearing me up Ma all these rejection letters are getting piled up on my counter from everywhere I sent my work to and they all come back to me with illegible red ink glaringly scrawled across them which no one in their right mind can read so how am I supposed to know how to make them better?”
I could hear the sarcasm dripping from her voice over the crackling phone line “I’m sure you will be crying me a river about these rejections when you have your first book published until then buck up and grow a backbone.”

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