by Mindy McGinnis
It happened. The day I'd dreamt about ever since I knew what a career was came and went and... I didn't feel much different.
To be clear - I'm not an OMG type of girl. I don't jump up and down, I don't overly-italicize things, and I certainly don't have a victory dance. I'm Irish, so I've got a barbaric YAWP in there, but it only comes out on certain occasions. Most of the time I keep the poker face on.
I'd been on submission for about six months when my agent, Adriann Ranta of Wolf Literary, sent me an email letting me know that somebody cared. A few somebody's, actually. So we were at auction, and it's a lovely place to be. I monitored my emails like a buzzard hovering over a sick mammal, but things didn't get terribly exciting until late afternoon. The offers came in, and I was stuck in what passes for traffic in rural Ohio - behind a combine.
I don't have a smartphone. My phone is in fact, a dumbphone (I have to manually spell the word "text" of all things), so I had to get home before I could check email. Once I managed that, Adriann and I fired off a few emails to each other discussing pros and cons and made our decision. And it was done.
I closed my laptop and looked around my house. I picked up dumbphone and called my mom but she couldn't find her phone (this is typical). I dialed my sister, who was already talking to someone else and didn't pick up (also typical). The boyfriend was at work. So, I scooped the litter and went to knitting class.
No glitter canons, no Hallelujah chorus, no really attractive men giving me armfuls of white roses. But you know what?
It was still damn cool.
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