Today is my son’s second birthday, and while I’m excited to have a reason to celebrate his life with cake and presents, I’m also celebrating myself a little. Before I became a mother I never realized how important birthdays are for the mom. Today I remember all the hard work it was to bring him into the world, and can relive my amazing sense of accomplishment at doing just that. He’s so incredible, and I can be proud of being his mother, and be proud of all those hours of (drug-free…yes, I’m bragging) labor.
A lot of people liken the process of writing and publishing a book to that of pregnancy and labor. You create the work (grow the baby) then the real work comes when you try to push it out into the world. I think that metaphor is apt, though the pains are usually emotional ones when it comes to the publishing industry.
But the end result is worth it. The book is your baby, and it needs to live in the real world, not just your mind. As a mother, and an author, I’m constantly overwhelmed to see the product of my labors on someone’s e-reader, or careening around the living room with jam on his face while I’m trying to wipe it off. I’m so lucky.