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But, it’s cool because we’re still in love. I should have said my “writing” and me, because my book is in an ageless coma a la Sleeping Beauty, while I prep the next one. As much as I look forward to seeing my writing project in the morning, I still feel the weirdness of calling myself a  YA writer. I suspect if I do have a book I wrote in my hands someday, I’ll feel like I did when I became a Mom and I was sitting in the hospital bed like, “Uh, where’s the test I need to pass so I can take the baby home?” Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll just feel like, Finally! But my point is, I wouldn’t have called myself a mom during the college years while I was getting ready to have the fussiest baby known to man. No way, right? Totally weird. Sometimes what we produce, is what defines our role. Josh wasn’t a doctor until he walked across that stage in May, even though he’d produced enough work to feel like one.

As much as I love hearing people call me a writer and even calling myself by that title, I know it’s still out there in my future. On good days, such as today, I like having that clear marker for success that I’ll be damn proud of achieving. Until then, I’ll continue to cozy up with the work in progress and hope that this is the one that, hm…makes me pregnant with a book deal?

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