That opening scene of Romancing the Stone, one of my favorite movies: Our introvert heroine puts the finishing touches on her latest book, then celebrates with her cat. A plate of tuna with a sprig of parsley for Romeo and a mini bottle of booze for her. A little sad, but a scenario we introverts know well.

Unlike Joan Wilder with her typewriter, I uploaded the file, filled in all the blanks, and clicked “submit”. Amazon responded with a nice little window telling me my book would be on line for presale soon. With a sigh of relief, I exited the internet. Time to celebrate with my cats.

Thus is the true nature of self-publishing. If you go to PLACID RIVER RUNS DEEP on Amazon, there it is. See, Tinkerbelle? My book is published! Get out the tuna; it’s party time.

I’ll feel more like it’s a done deal when I have the book in my hand. Opening that huge, heavy box full of pretty new covers, now that is truly exciting! Soon, Tinkerbelle, soon!

If only my mother were still with me. It’s times like this I miss her the most. Before she crossed Beyond, she would dutifully read my book drafts, then say something encouraging like, “I think you’ve really got a book there.” She never saw me into print, and the drafts she read were early in my writing career, ones that may never come to light but necessary for that first million words of practice. She was a good sport. As I write this, alone on my computer, it’s easy to imagine her here.

“Look!” I would say. “The book about Washougal.”

She would take it in her slim artistic fingers, study the cover picture, so familiar to her because it’s her cabin, on which I based the setting of my story. I see her smile.

   “I think you got a book there,” she would say with love.