Sometimes our assumptions don’t jive with reality. Today, my twelve-year-old neighbor stood next to me as I signed a copy of Writing New Adult Fiction to mail to the winning bidder in the Quest for Queen Auction. I explained what I was doing, why, and the purpose of the bookmark-that-doubles-as-a-business-card that I’d tucked into the book. I then fought to jam the book into an envelope that was just barely big enough. It was the only envelope I had on hand and I didn’t want to go to the store for another.
The girl watched me struggle for a moment, then said, “You know, when I was growing up, I thought authors lived in big mansions like celebrities.”
I sealed the envelope then pumped my fist in victory. “And now you know the truth.”
