It's finally happened. I've signed a book deal. Frankly, I still don't believe it. And I'll keep not believing it until that glorious day, slated for August of 2012, when I can walk into whichever bookstore still remains open and see my book on the shelf.
Thank goodness my agent handled the contract work. I was so overjoyed to hear that I had an offer that I would have signed over my first born. Heck, I would have thrown in my second born for free. All thoughts in my head were drowned out by the words, "published, published, published." Advance, who needs an advance? You want me to rewrite the entire book backwards? Just show me where to sign!
I must admit, the contract negotiations were not the nail biters you see in the movies. In fact, there really were no negotiations. Kensington sent a contract, my agent and I changed a couple of tiny, tiny items, and then I signed it. No late night discussions on whether the advance was enough, no shouting matches over the phone about royalties. Nope. The whole experience was quiet and business-like. Of course I sent the signed contract back certified mail, sure I was sending the envelope to a nonexistent address or the company next door, where they would toss the envelope in the trash with half-eaten donuts and empty coffee cups. Or else the mailman's truck would catch fire while driving through the streets of New York. Or a rabid dog would grab the envelope from the mailman's clutches and tear it to shreds. So many possibilities, none of which happened.
Now I really have a reason to focus on book two. It's a three book deal with the next one due in May. While that sounds like a month in the far and distant future, I can't slow down or I'll get lazy, pushing the writing off day after day until next thing I know, it's April 30th. Then it will be like a movie, where I'm up all night, drinking Red Bull and typing furiously, wondering how I'd gotten myself into this mess. Oh, that's right, I signed a publishing contract! Yippee!