Apparently, I'm an Author

Despite this picture, which ran in the local paper, I forget I am an author about 90% of the time. I'm too insane with cleaning and laundry and driving the kids to Ninjitsu, and going over homework, and fending off the Dark Forces of the Demon Baby to really remember that yes, I write books. I have three release next year after a long lag time in which I turned things in but they were edited and slotted . . . and reslotted to a better month or what have you. So it's easy to forget then, too, when there's no huge promo going on.

But apparently, this is what I do for a living.

However, I swear--and I mean swear--that it still doesn't feel like reality most of the time. When Spanish Disco made Cosmopolitan magazine, I felt like someone Punk'd me. When US Weekly had a picture of Diary of a Blues Goddess, it felt like someone ran it in just two copies--mine and my parents'.

When I hold my books in my hand--when my author copies come--well . . . it feels like SOMEONE ELSE wrote this suff. Someone who eats bon-bons, has a secretary, and with NO Demon Baby in sight.

But apparently, like I said, I do this for a living. Who the hell knew?

However, when DOES it feel real?

When my editor calls me at 4:30 on a Friday to say, "The revision looks SPECTACULAR." When he discusses dialogue--"perfect." When he tells me to work on x or y (add another scene). When--oh my gosh--a LIVE HUMAN BEING/EDITOR (with most editors being human, you know) actually READ my stuff and wants to discuss it.

I know that sounds absolutely wacky. But that's about the ONLY time it feels real.

So . . . when do YOU feel like a real writer? Or are you still in denial?