I imagined it differently.
A quiet, slow-motion moment. Me, holding the first printed copy of my book—the one I dreamed of for over a decade. Not the actual book print. But my first 350 pages printout anyway. Maybe a little music playing in the background. Maybe a soft smile. A deep breath.
Instead, I got… Miss Monroe.
Clinging to my leg.
Trying to hump me.
While I held the book up to the camera.
You can have a look at it here:
So yeah. Not quite the TikTok-worthy moment I had in mind. But maybe even better.
Because here’s the truth no one tells you:
Holding your printout for the first time is magical.
But it’s also work.
Yes, it’s a dream come true. There’s this surreal feeling—your story has weight now. Pages. A spine. Your words exist off-screen.
But then your eyes land on a sentence that sounds weird.
Or a paragraph you forgot to trim.
Or a storyline that doesn’t seem to make sense (again).
And suddenly you’re not just holding your dream.
You’re holding your next round of edits.
No one claps for this part. There’s no applause for re-reading your 350-page manuscript with a pen in one hand and mild panic in the other. No one sees you muttering to yourself, circling words you’ve overused, deleting entire paragraphs you loved yesterday.
But it matters.
It’s where the story gets tighter.
Where the characters get sharper.
Where the good stuff becomes great.
So yes, I held my book for the first time.
And yes, my dog tried to steal the spotlight.
But between the chaos and the edits and the awkward camera angle… I felt it.
The joy. The pride. The weird, wonderful disbelief that I actually did this.
It’s not perfect yet.
But it’s real.
And that’s more than enough for today.
