My life has not changed a whole lot being a published author. I missed the birthday date of publication of my book. It was May 1, 2020, mid pandemic.
There was no book press. There was no accolades. No book read. Just a quiet press of a button that marked the printing of a book that made me become an author. 🙂
I am not a best selling author. I have only sold 342 books. Some of that is giveaways. I continue to sell books steadily every month, at least four or five.
I find that the most interesting. Someone, a stranger, is picking up my book and wanting to read it. They buy it and I wonder what they think. Nobody is leaving a review. People read books and don’t leave reviews. I’m just astounded that my book sells.
Somebody reached out for me to enter into a book award. I don’t know if they are legit but it does actually list people who are the judges and not nameless faces like some of the other contests. The admission fee is not very steep. I have some time to make up my mind.
I am shocked that I didn’t realize my book turned one. I’m sad I didn’t celebrate. I totally spaced forgot about it’s little birthday. I’m sorry Yes, I Took My Meds. You deserved better.
Happy Birthday, tiger. Keep chugging along. Pretty soon, the right person will read you and you’ll get some business. 🙂