So, I may have mentioned that when I signed my book deal with Razorbill, my youngest son asked for a pony.
I explained that I wasn’t actually J.K. Rowling, and that ponies are expensive, take a lot of care,* blah blah blah. When pressed (oh, yes, the kid kept at it), I said when I made a million dollars at this writing thing, we could get a pony. (I figured he’d be about forty if it ever happened, and past the pony-wanting years. I’m sneaky like that.)
But there’s no harm in dreaming – I mean, that’s what gets us through this whole writing life some
days years. The thought of someday, seeing your name next to your heroes, seeing your book at the book fair, buying that pony and pony butler’s services with your ginormous royalty checks. *sigh*
I had a tiny part of that dream come true today, friends. I was sitting at breakfast, reading the Austin American-Statesman paper. I turned to the Books section (as one does), and there was a great article about YA fantasy, and why it is so freaking awesome, and why everyone should buy their kids fantasy books every day of their lives, isn’t the REALITY of middle school enough to merit the escape into fantasy, people… sorry, got on my soapbox. Cynthia Leitich Smith spoke extremely well about the topic, and I was waving my pom poms. Yay, Cynthia! Yay, YA fantasy books!
Rick Riordan? Check.
Cynthia Leitich Smith? Check.
Marissa Meyer, James Dashner, Veronica Roth? Checkity check check.
Nikki Loftin? Wait… who?
Oh. My. Heavens.
My book was there. Right next to (as my son pointed out) the photos from the Hunger Games and Harry Potter movies.
It took some explaining that, no, we still weren’t getting the pony yet.But ice cream? Oh. yes. Time to celebrate!
Isn’t this the coolest thing? I’m so happy today.
* When I explained to him that he’d have to clean a barn, he amended his wish for just a pony. He also wants a “pony butler” to clean up the poo. I’m going to have to write some seriously bestselling books, people.