It sort of came as a shock to me yesterday to realize that my first novel, Her Daughter's Eyes, was ten-years-old. A blogger reviewed the novel, and I realized how wonderful it was to find new readers after all these years. And then I thought: All these years.
Ten years ago, I was in a whole different life. I was the mother of two teenaged boys, wife to a man I am no longer married to, living in my hometown in a house I no longer own. I was worried about things that I am no longer worried about, focused day-to-day on issues that I don't have anymore. I had a whole life routine that seems as far away as childhood.
By February of 2002, I was probably realizing the fame and fortune that was to come my way had taken the other highway. But I'd sold another two novels. So while I had troubles on the home front, I had hope from a while different, brand new front. Things were going to happen and change.
And they did, but maybe not in the way that I thought they would. I had no idea what it would mean to have published one novel. But I figured it out. I wrote more novels. My life turned and shifted and changed. Though I did earn money, I did not became rich and famous. And here I am, ten years later, looking out at a different view, with a different perspective, in a different house with a different husband, with a different life. The boys are now men, off into their own lives.
The writer of that novel all those years ago had no idea what would happen or how.
But the novel is still the same, fixed and unchanging, and really, pretty damn good. My first novel, a story I needed and wanted to write, a miracle, a wonder, and still catching readers.
That's what I couldn't have predicted. That I couldn't have imagined. That is really the miracle.
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org