Who Knew Book Deals Ended with Real Books?

I've been trying really hard to think of other things to write about. Even though the release is next week, I don't want the blog to turn into PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY PARANORMALCY even though, let's face it, that's pretty much how my brain is buzzing these days.

It's a funny thing. When you get a book deal you're overcome with this sense that, holy crap, your book is going to be a BOOK. A real book. In bookstores. That, ideally, people read. Even more ideally, lots and lots and lots of people read. And it's what you want, what you've envisioned, what you've dreamed of for years.

I can still remember the first time it hit me how badly I wanted to make this happen. It was almost overwhelming at the time. And I felt like an idiot, standing there in the YA section of a bookstore, my heart racing and every nerve on edge as I stared at the shelves and thought, THERE. I am going to be there. I am going to make this happen.

I made it happen.

I've known since last year that this whole thing would end in a real book.

It doesn't make it any less surreal.